


Learning to be Human

by daytime



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Hanzo, Eventual Smut, M/M, Marijuana, Mental Health Issues, Missions, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, unreliable narrators
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-05-19 19:59:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14880245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daytime/pseuds/daytime
Summary: Hanzo Shimada thought that his problems would go away when he was reintroduced to his once mourned brother. Despite living life for years as a nomad, he has quite a lot of baggage he has failed to work through, both with his brother and with himself. The biggest hurdle he’ll have to face is his own preconceived notion of what a happy life is.Jesse McCree hasn’t belonged in Overwatch for a while. Ever since the death of his mentor, he’s built up a resentment toward the organization. During Blackwatch he lived in the shadow of Overwatch but now he’s not sure he can handle being in the forefront. His mission is to dismantle Talon and leave Overwatch once and for all.These two extremely unadjusted adults find companions in each other and discover that maybe your other half is someone that you least expect.





	1. Closure is a Construct

**Author's Note:**

> Why can't I write this much when my teacher asks me to write a paper

It was a spring evening when his father passed away. He had chosen to die at home, rather than a hospital. The heir had been under cherry blossom trees with his brother when he was informed of the news of their father’s deteriorating health. When the brothers had arrived at their father’s room, he had requested his younger brother’s presence and his presence only. The heir sat in seiza for so long his knees ached, awaiting his father's beckoning. But only his brother had emerged. The heir had not gotten to say goodbye.

  
Closure, the scion realized that day, was a simple construct that did not exist. Members of the family planted sweet words into his ear. Sweet words of power, duty, and honor.

  
Power was gained by binding another mystical being to his soul. His first dragon had appeared to him on its own when he was 15. Five years later was when the heir underwent the second binding ritual. The process was unnatural, painful and had taken 12 hours to complete. This suffering was seconded only to his father’s death. His younger brother had not been with the heir to help endure the pain, instead choosing to chase a nightly pleasure.

  
And with power came duty and duty came honor.

  
Or so the clan prophesied.

  
It was a spring evening when the heir cut down his brother. His brother had sold information about the clan to an outside source. As his brother had his birthright, the clan labeled the execution as a duel. The heir was faster, stronger, and better than his brother in almost every way. He did not stand a chance.

  
The heir was not allowed to be with his father when he had died, but he was with his brother when he died.

  
Ever since his father’s death 18 years ago, the heir had not believed in closure. He tried to find solutions to the emptiness that plagued his heart. From the arms of another to the bottom of the bottle of alcohol, there was nothing to make him stop feeling. He embarked on a journey to regain his honor but found that it did not lighten the pain his soul felt.

  
Something resembling closure was presented to him in the form of his long-dead brother. It was the same spring evening that witnessed his father and his brother’s death. The same sky that had witnessed such a loss, had witnessed something new.

 

Hanzo Shimada

 

He sighs at the blackboard located in the conference room. Numbers and equations taunt him. Hanzo has been trying to figure out this optimization problem for 20 minutes, which is an unprecedented time compared to how long he usually takes. Even though he once enjoyed math, he has been plagued with a loss of interest. It has become a habit more than anything else.

  
The conference room which he occupies is one that not many agents frequent. Inferring from the outdated equipment, it appears as though this room was one used during the old Overwatch. He found this room in an attempt to find somewhere else to frequent besides his quarters, kitchen, and the practice range. Hanzo gives an indignant huff and steps back from the problem, hoping for the universe to grant him clarity. The problem asks "A window is being built and the bottom is a rectangle and the top is a semicircle. If there is 12 meters of framing materials what must the dimensions of the window be to let in the most light?"

This should be child's play.

Lost in contemplation that is not limited to mathematics, he takes a seat in a nearby chair and extracts his cell phone from his pocket. Cellular devices are wastes of time but right now he needs a palate cleanser for his brain. A month ago, he was addicted to the damned thing because Genji downloaded an application where users can engage with people of their own interests. He said that Hanzo needed a healthy outlet that did not include Genji. The app turned out to be very addictive, using it to argue for hours.

  
"I don't understand why they aren't seeing my way,” Hanzo scoffed to his brother during one particular internet argument. “I'm right of course. Anyone with sense could see that. I do not understand why everyone is calling me an ass.”

  
Genji gestured for Hanzo to give him the device. "Can I see the post?" Hanzo passed it to his brother and his brother skimmed over it and sighed.

  
"Brother, you called this person a 'mouth breather' and told them that they 'could be a primary source for the deteriorating state of the Western education system and that their parents should be ashamed.’ Of course, you came off like an ass!”

  
After a couple more days of arguments, the app mysteriously disappeared from his phone and Hanzo is too prideful to ask his brother how to reinstall it.

  
"Howdy, Shimada," a deep, husky voice with a Southern twang that was so unique that Hanzo did not have to know who had entered the room.

  
"Greetings, McCree.”

  
McCree tips his hat, which Hanzo thinks is delightfully stereotypical. The man leisurely saunters over to the blackboard where the math problem rests in momentary abandonment. McCree's face puckers up like he ate a sour candy as inspects the board’s contents. Hanzo begins to feel defensive about his work but elects to remain impassive.

  
Seemingly noticing the strangeness of the situation, McCree explains, "Sorry, I was walking by and I saw you in here, didn’t mean to snoop. Are you helping Angela or Winston with a problem or something?"

  
"Heavens, no," Hanzo tersely denies with a curt head shake. While he has nothing against the ape, he harbors no fond feelings for the doctor. "I do this for fun."

  
"You can have fun?" McCree’s face is neutral as he gives Hanzo a quick glance. The archer is not sure if the man jests or is genuinely being aggressive. He squelches the urge to become aggressive.

  
"It seems the cat is out of the bag," he replies. "There are only a few things in life that have answers. So much of life is uncertain and I value what is absolute," Hanzo cautiously muses. McCree backs away from the board and says nothing. Hanzo raises an eyebrow. "Do you disagree, cowboy?"

  
"I agree with the sentiment but math is just one of those things that I would rather be clubbed over the head with a sock full of rocks than partake in," McCree concedes with a shrug.

  
"Math is one of the most useful skills in life. I would be inclined to teach you if you wished.”

  
"Math is a pretty broad subject Shimada-san, can't really teach it like riding a bicycle or shooting guns." Hanzo snorts and resumes writing on the chalkboard. McCree bounces his leg in a distracting manner. Silence floats in the air between them, the only sound being a soft scrape of chalk. Their relationship over the past year has thawed quite a bit and now they have somewhat of a tenuous acquaintanceship. Talking to the cowboy is not as worse as other conversations Hanzo could hold with others at the Watchpoint.

"Want a soda?" McCree asks, getting up with his body pivoted toward the vending machine.

  
Without looking away from the Calculus problem, Hanzo says, "Soda is horrendous for you. If I wanted to drink chemicals then I could just drink hydrochloric acid. At least then I wouldn't have to deal with the aftertaste of carbonated beverages."

  
"So sorry to offend your highness," McCree snidely says while curtseying mockingly.

  
"I am stating facts, I held no malice in my statement.”

  
"Kinda hard to read your intentions when you've got your nose turned up at the world all the damn time," McCree sneers. Hanzo puts down his chalk and faces the cowboy fully. They are staring each other down. If Hanzo is honest, he did mean to condescend in his words but thought that McCree would be too polite to point it out. He would not hesitate to admit that he does, in fact, he thinks himself better than others. This is not aggression, simply a fact.

  
"What else does one do when wading in filth?" Hanzo hisses.

  
"Wow, I’m gonna pretend that you didn’t say that and just gonna leave," the cowboy incredulously says before turning on his heel and slamming the door to the conference room behind him. This is the problem with these Overwatch agents, they are simply too soft and take everything too personally. Maybe that is why his brother fit in here so well.

  
He sighs. When did he get to be so bad at deescalating confrontations? For years, his duty was to act as a diplomat between Genji and the whole clan. Those years granted him the fond title of a silver-tongued diplomat. In his years wandering, apparently, he has grown to be less of a liaison and more of the person who needs a liaison. Despite the preconceived notions of his character by other Overwatch agents, he is not one that revels in conflict. In fact, he actively avoids it.

  
That cowboy is simply an enigmatic man. The man's antagonism managed to irritate the usually cool-headed archer. Being Genji's brother for 25 years gave him a thick skin. The cowboy exhibited an impressive skill of irritating the eldest Shimada.

  
Jesse McCree did not strike him as exceptionally social, Hanzo would even go so far as to say that he was anti-social. Even though he interacted with other Overwatch members and was relatively friendly with them, he did not seem to be friends with many. He supposes he cannot judge the Ex-Blackwatch agent too much. Hanzo has fame for his unrivaled combat skills but his ability to make friends is less impressive. He is almost 40 years old and that sort of bond does not interest him any longer. Being around his long-dead brother is emotionally exhausting enough without the stress of going through the motions of becoming friends with someone. Shimada Hanzo did not join the new Overwatch to make friends and he suspects neither did Jesse McCree.

  
Faint, metallic footsteps alert Hanzo of Genji's presence. To the untrained ear, Genji's footsteps would be undetectable. To Hanzo, they are as loud as a shrieking banshee.

  
"Greetings," he turns around to preemptively greet Genji. “I thought this would be a place where I could be alone but I suppose I must relocate.” A metallic laugh rings through the lounge.

  
"Even after 6 months I cannot get used to having someone else on base who can sense my movements," Genji says with a smile. His face mask is removed and, if Hanzo is honest, it makes him a little nauseous to look at. He does not know if it is because of the actual physical appearance of the scars or the guilt that accompanies it.

  
"Overwatch does not strike me to have agents that possess the same level of training that I do," Hanzo haughtily says.

  
"Yeah, yeah we know you are a badass," Genji quips with an eye roll and slight irritation in his voice. He always hated when Hanzo bragged. Hanzo was always under the mentality that if Genji hated it so much he should become better than Hanzo himself.

  
Deciding to steer clear of that conversation, Hanzo lightly asks, "How are you doing, you just got back from a mission, no? How are you faring?"

  
"I did but don't go doting on me, it doesn't suit your badass persona," Genji smirks. "Plus, the days of you worrying in place of our mother are long over. I am an adult now."

  
"An adult that stays up at 1 AM playing video games."

  
"An adult who has the *choice* to stay up at 1 AM playing video games," Genji gives a smirk like a mischievous child.  
It is hard to imagine Hanzo as being soft of heart and nurturing but his brother was correct. After their mother disappeared and until their father's death, Hanzo used to dote severely on Genji. He used loved Genji more than he obeyed the clan before he found out that he could not do both.

  
"How are you settling in?" Genji asks.

  
"I am content in where I am at. It has been a year, giving me an excess of time to get comfortable," Hanzo says.

  
"But still it seems you walk as though you are treading on eggshells," Genji observes.

  
"My discomfort isn't at the behest of anyone, simply a change in scenery that hasn't been afforded to me in a very long time. If I am uncomfortable with those on Gibraltar, it is because they are people, not because of anything personal."

  
"Edgy," Genji states with a wry smirk. His serious side emerging again, Genji suddenly asks, "Was McCree in here earlier? He didn't say anything to upset you, did he?"

  
“No, he did not, we got into a brief argument but it was not because of you."

  
"Okay. If it was, tell me. I was serious with what I told him when you first arrived at the Watchpoint." When Hanzo first arrived at Watchpoint Gibraltar, Jesse McCree had threatened him which led to them getting into a physical altercation. Genji was very upset with McCree as he told him beforehand to be respectful of Hanzo’s presence. Hanzo does not know exactly what his brother said to the cowboy but McCree was a lot nicer to him. People always expected his brother to be less cruel than Hanzo but he knows how his brother can be when he gets angry. Genji can get a new body but his temper will always stay the same. Hanzo did not like his younger brother acting like he was the older one. He still appreciated the sentiment for what it was worth.

 

Genji asks, "Do you wanna hang later today? I got you this cool Sudoku puzzle in Spain during my last mission. A pen too because," Genji coughs and starts doing his best Hanzo impression, "I never make mistakes."

 

"You are an insolent brat. Has anyone ever told you that?" Hanzo coldly states.

 

"You would be surprised to learn that, yes, there are a lot of people who call me that." Genji hands the Sudoku book over to his brother. The book is actually pretty sleek and even has a leather cover to it.

 

"Heavens know how you remembered that I like Sudoku puzzles," Hanzo mumbles.

 

"You really think so little of me?" Genji says. Hanzo chooses not to respond to that and instead opts to bow and thank his brother.

 

"Thank you for the gift. I will return the favor," Hanzo declares.

 

"You need to chill out, it's not like I was searching day and night under a blue moon looking for a gift for you. Please, don't repay me you'll probably get me something really boring like socks or something."

 

"Socks are functional," Hanzo frowned.

 

"Hah! You really are the worst!"

 

"I've had to clean up after your messes, physical and nonphysical, so the title of 'the worst' is debatable."

 

\--

 

Hanzo eventually had to concede and kick his brother out after an hour of talking. This leaves him in his room, alone, getting ready for bed.

  
Being around people was exhausting. Exhaustion can be used to describe many of Hanzo’s feelings though. Being at Overwatch amplified his sleep issues. For hours he lies awake, unable to fall asleep and the next days he takes 4-hour naps. Because of the flexible nature of the organization, it has not interfered with his work thus far.

 

  
His brother and he get into fights often but they are usually not serious. He can tell Genji is concerned about him and that leads to Hanzo getting defensive which leads to a confrontation. Despite it being a year, there still is an abyss between them and Hanzo is not fitting to Overwatch any better. Frustration and weariness plague his soul. He knows it’s just a matter of time before Genji kicks him out of the organization. Hanzo senses this and knows that no one else would care if he left. His brother has always been the charismatic one.

  
Genji hates him but is too chicken shit to say it. This is why Hanzo keeps him at an arm’s length. It is better to do this than to experience the pain more intimately if he got close to Genji again. There is nothing that ties Hanzo to Overwatch so why is he still here?

 

  
He glances over at the clock on his bed stand and sees that an hour has already passed and he was no closer to sleep.


	2. Not Everything is Perfect and Easy

Jesse McCree

 

With one or two exceptions, Jesse doesn't particularly like anyone at Overwatch. Despite what propaganda wanted people to believe back in the day, it’s not sunshine and rainbows. Jack Morrison and the old leaders sat on their pedestals, often failing to see how the real world worked. A powerful organization that has no emotional connection to the common folk is dangerous. It's how tyrannical governments come into power. He joined under the impression that the new Overwatch would correct the mistakes of the old one, which led. The only reason he’s staying is he wants to dispense some much-needed justice to the world and working as a bounty hunter drifter wasn’t going to cut it. Jesse can continue his life after the second Omnic Crisis and Talon is dealt with. He's in charge of the investigation of Talon due to his detective skills in the past and (for once) he can't argue with Overwatch brass.  Thanks in no small part to his shady connections, Jesse McCree is the fittest for the job of tracking down Talon.

 

The only person on base that he can remotely consider a friend is Genji. They aren't close but during Blackwatch they developed a unique bond. Jesse is protective over the ninja, but he’s not going to braid his hair and sing Kumbaya and shit like that. The only one who was apart of this shitty organization that Jesse passionately gave a damn about is 6 feet under.

 

Hauling himself to his workbench, Jesse extracts a sketchbook from the drawer. Leafing through old sketches, he finds a blank page near the end. Drawing has always been therapeutic for him. He started when he was a teenager and it has become a casual hobby ever since. Labeling himself as a Picasso would be going too far but he's not bad either. 

 

_"I don't know how you are so good at art, Jesse,"_ Gabe's gravelly voice says in his memories. _"You have the ability to kill and the ability to create something beautiful. You truly are something, Jesse."_

 

Being back makes Jesse miss him something fierce. They were always the closest two in Blackwatch. He was Gabe's right-hand man and Gabe was like a father to him. Up until things started to change, the commander told him everything. A month before Venice, he’d taken Jesse out for his 30th birthday. That was one of the last times Jesse had seen Gabe like himself. He grew reclusive and refused to talk to Jesse, told him he didn’t want to endanger him.

 

Watching a loved one decline into paranoia and unrest was more painful than a gunshot wound. When he was gone, no one on base mourned like he did. They all liked to forget that he even existed. After Ana informed him that Overwatch wouldn’t be holding a funeral for Gabe, he left without so much as a letter of resignation. Statues of Jack Morrison are all over the damn place. But all Gabriel Reyes doesn’t even get a fucking funeral?

 

He got on the same plane as Genji. A week later they separated too. And that was the last time he was in contact from anyone at Overwatch.

 

That’s why Hanzo’s arrival at Gibraltar shocked Jesse. Last time he talked to Genji, he still hated the Shimada Clan and his brother, who he said was the embodiment of everything he hates about his family. It was a given that Jesse hated Hanzo when he first arrived at the Watchpoint.

 

Jesse McCree is not exactly the patron of kindness but he was extremely cruel, even for him, toward the eldest Shimada. Hanzo was never the one to provoke an argument but whatever Jesse said, Hanzo dished back something of equal nastiness. Genji did not appreciate his protectiveness and viewed it as extremely disrespectful. They got into fight, leading all communications between them to halt for two weeks. He finally caved and apologized to him during a particularly tense mission. Genji simply told him to tell it to his brother.

 

Hanzo, ex-Yazuka, assassin, archer, resident sexy man, Shimada turned out to be rather forgiving. Of course, Hanzo probably thought he was above McCree but it was still a nice gesture. They’ve talked sporadically since then and he’s realized that Hanzo isn’t half bad half of the time. McCree wouldn’t mind talking to him more but Hanzo likes to pick and choose when to be a total prick.

 

Well, if Jesse has learned anything, if the eldest Shimada is anything, it's eccentric. With asshole following shortly behind.

 

A light rapping on his door startled him out of his concentration. He slowly inches his hand toward Peacekeeper, who rests on the desk. Another knock, followed by a huff.

 

"Jesse McCree, stop being paranoid and open up. It's me, Angela," a German voice lilts from the other side of the door. The cowboy opens the door and is immediately engulfed in a hug by Angela Ziegler. She looks as stunning as ever. He had a helluva crush on her back in the day before they got to know each other. Soap and fresh rain flood Jesse’s nose as he envelopes her in his arms. Jesse has kinds missed her.

He beckons her in and sits down across from the doctor. "To what do I owe this visit, doc? How long do I have to live?" Jesse jokes. This was his favorite joke to make to her. Only Gabe really laughed at it.

 

"Not long if you keep smoking McCree," Angela scolds coldly, little humor in her voice. It takes all of Jesse's power to resist telling her to leave. The tension is palpable when she coughs lightly. "Can we discuss leads on your new mission?"

 

"We got a mission in Numbani in two days,” he informs with his arms crossed. “Primary healer spot is still open if you wanna get in on the action.” She gives a curt nod and he makes a mental note to add her to the roster tonight after his date. Angela’s eyes are fixed on the floor, a telltale sign she has more to say. Jesse asks her if she has more on her mind.

 

She sighs. "It’s just do not know why we aren't dedicating more manpower toward this mission. It seems kind of risky to assign such an important investigation to…well you know.”

 

“No,” he defensively hisses. “I don’t know. Care to elaborate?”

 

“It’s just…I thought Winston would have chosen someone else,” she concedes.

 

“Oh, like someone not from Blackwatch?” he accuses.

 

“Well, yeah,” she unapologetically says.

 

Oh, that’s about enough for Jesse. He opens the door and gestures for her to leave. "We’re done here."

 

"I did not mean to provoke. You know I meant no harm." She gets up and gives him an unwavering, determined look. The tips of her fingers rest on his shoulder, a grounding touch. If it were in another universe he would accept the touch. Not in this one. He shrugs off her touch and deepens his frown.

 

"Don’t play coy, Angela. I know you. You’re being passive-aggressive on purpose. It was different when we were 20somethings, but I am way too old to be playing that game, Angela.” A hint of tiredness creeps into his voice. The sad look on her face gets Jesse for a second. He wishes that he could go back to being 20 and be able to hug her again. But he’s not 20 anymore and he’s not going to do that.

 

"Very well. As you wish," she whispers, shutting the door behind her. All that she leaves in her wake is the sent of soap that’s synonymous with her.

 

It wasn't always like this. Back in the day, they were quite close. Jesse would even go so far as to say they were best friends. Eventually, though, they drifted apart. He thought that she was constantly looking down at him. The holier than thou thing got old really quick. While her role in Gabe’s experiments was minimal, she still played participated in them. And after all those years, she didn’t even have the gall to tell him why.

 

Trying to become friends with Angela again was like trying to fit two puzzle pieces together that clearly don't fit. And he's too old to be changing parts of himself to please others.

 

Jesse needs to check in with Winston before the mission. Even though he's in a terrible mood, a leading member of an elite organization does not get the benefit of opting out of meetings. A member of an elite organization has to check in with a mutated monkey at the beginning of each mission for a psyche evaluation and get lectured on chores and training quotas.

 

\--

 

In a flannel and sweatpants, Jesse tries to delay the inevitable by meandering to Winston’s office. Something about talking to the big ape makes him feel guilty. He suspects that Winston partly blames him for the collapse of Overwatch. Him and Genji are the black sheep, the dark clouds over everyone's head. They both remind Overwatch of things they are trying so desperately to forget. It's a wonder why the ape sent Jesse the invitation to rejoin and why he’s actually giving him a leading position.  

 

When he arrives at the head honcho office, previously occupied by Jack Morrison, he electronically checks in with Athena for his appointment on the terminal. She informs him that he is 40 minutes late.

 

"Maybe everyone else is 40 minutes early," he smoothly smiles. If an AI could roll its eyes, Jesse is sure Athena does. Winston immediately emerges from his office and fixes him a glare.

 

"You are late," Winston chastises. The sight of an angry 500-pound gorilla triggers Jesse's fight or flight response. He chooses the 3rd option and decides to calmly respond.

 

"Howdy, Winst!" he jovially responds.  

 

"Let's get this over with," Winston grumbles. Under his breath, he says, "It's been a decade and you still haven't changed a bit."

 

That one actually hurt a bit.

 

Winston’s office is a marvel of innovation. It’s obviously been redesigned from Jack’s old layout. No longer does it resemble a stuffy old man’s office. Now it looks like a mixture of a zoo and eccentric science lab. Passing by beakers that he recognizes as Moira’s old set, enclosures with animals, and a mound of papers, somehow this office seems bigger. Winston, despite being bigger in mass, isn’t as oppressive as Jack Morrison’s presence was.

 

The ape sits down on his chair that he repurposed from an old tire and gestures to a seat opposite to his desk. He asks, "So, Mr. McCree, how are you adjusting to life on base?"

 

"Peachy," Jesse curtly replies. God, he hates these psych checkups.

 

Winston frowns deeper, looking like he’s going to instigate an argument. Instead, he continues with his questions. "Can you describe your drinking and smoking habits in the past 2 months?"

 

"I drink sometimes. Now, ah, my smoking habits? You'll have to be a little more specific to ah, what substance you’re wondering about."

 

"I'm going to pretend like I do not know what you are implying, Mr. McCree," Winston scathingly replies. It’s no secret to everyone on base that McCree is their resident stoner. He’s aware that Winston knows of his more extracurricular activities, so Jesse bringing it up was just to rile the big guy up. Smoking a blunt is hardly the most illegal thing he’s doing these days. He’s got a bounty bigger than some countries GDPs and has several criminal contacts. If he got caught working in Overwatch, he can guarantee he’ll be in bigger trouble than drug possession.

 

Winston continues, "How have your _tobacco_ smoking habits been? Surely you do realize that even synth-tobacco is harmful."

 

Jesse’s problem with Winston is the same problem he has with Angela. Blackwatch was considered to be Overwatch’s political janitor. The only time that any field agents stooped to talk to Jesse was when they are judging him about his lifestyles. Most agents blame Blackwatch for Overwatch’s downfall and it shows in how they treat Jesse.

 

"I could tell you that what I smoke is candy cigars if that'll make you feel better," he sneers. Unexpectantly, Winston slams his hands on the desk with forceful emotion and stands up in his chair.

 

"McCree,” he barks, “when will you realize that the world is not out to get you? People don’t always have ulterior motives other than their desire for your continued existence! Is that so hard to believe?"

 

"What do you want from me?” He stands up to meet Winston’s unrelenting gaze, slamming his own hands on a stack of paper, aggression simmers in his voice and demeanor. “For me to break down and tell you my entire life story? To tell you about how hard it was to lose an arm, or about my pig of a dad, or about how I never truly coped with losing Gabe? We are colleagues, Winston, not friends. We’re not here to have a circle jerk and talk about my feelings. I do my job and I do it well. Nothing matters beyond that."

 

Winston is silent, looking at the window with his chin resting in his hand. It’s hard to believe that Jesse is older by Winston by nearly a decade. Though in moments of nativity like these, it’s not so hard to believe. The ape’s face softens and looks contemplative. Jesse really doesn’t hate Winston, he just knows that they could never be friends. The ape thinks that just because everyone is colleagues everyone needs to be friends. A moment passes before he turns his gaze back to Jesse and slowly relents, "I suppose I can lift your required psyche evaluations."

 

The disheartened way the ape says it makes Jesse feel a little guilty. Instead of apologizing, he wordlessly exits the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing McCree is so fun


	3. Fighting Chance

Hanzo Shimada

 

Genji was supposed to spar with Hanzo 30 minutes ago. Anticipating that his brother would fail to fulfill to show up, he brought his bow to do individual target practice. Irritation is not a feeling he revels in but his brother has stood him multiple times in a row, without a text for cancellation nor an apology. Some things never change.

 

Archery at the practice range is a part of his daily routine. The bow and arrow were the first discipline that Hanzo was not immediately gifted at. Before he put that skill to rest, Hanzo was incredibly skilled with the sword, more so than his brother. It was not something he enjoyed, simply a form that was expected of an heir. Archery enthralled him with its elusiveness. Unlike swords, guns, and combat training, it was the only thing in Hanzo’s early years that he could enjoy without clan involvement. It truly felt like it was his skill. Eventually, even that was capitalized for the betterment of the family. The joy he feels for practicing has been diminished over the years. It does not interest Hanzo anymore.

 

Spurs lightly clink in the distance, warning him of McCree's presence. He snorts. "McCree, if you are hoping to maintain the element of surprise, you might want to be rid of those horrendous shoes," he quips without turning around.

 

"Oh, these?" McCree casually responds as he enters the shooting range. "I put these on to give folks a fightin’ chance."

 

"What hubris!"

 

"Says the pot to the kettle," McCree says with neither humor nor genuine anger in his voice.

 

Hanzo scoffs, "Hubris is only deserving of reprimand when it is baseless. I am unrivaled and therefore have the right to be a braggart.”

 

McCree snorts and sets up a close-range simulation. Drones materialize in front of him and he proceeds to unload his peashooter at them. "Do your dragons have senses of humor or is it just your personality that makes you so unpleasant to be around?"

 

"You do not wish to find out," Hanzo advises.

 

McCree rolls his eyes and focuses on target practice. Even from a couple of lanes away, Hanzo can fully appreciate the cowboy's aim. Despite Hanzo's complex feelings toward the man, he would be lying if he claimed that he did not acknowledge McCree's skill. Envy is not an emotion that he can claim to be well acquainted with but this is the probably the closest he has felt in a very long time. Hanzo's aim is honed and calculated, a product of years of experience. McCree's aim is casual and effortless, able to hit the same targets that Hanzo does but with more ease. The cowboy's abilities extend well into the battlefield too and make him a flexible field agent. Hanzo's abilities are more niche and not demanded during every mission. It is hard to loathe a useful man.

 

Sounds of arrows and bullets hitting their marks resonate throughout the shooting range. As much as he has his gripes with Overwatch, it was wonderful to practice in a state of the art facility again. In his years of being a nomad, the closest thing to a practice range were the heads of his unfortunate targets. Many things had to be given up in favor of continued existence. Some of which are not easily regained.

 

"Aim of an assassin," McCree coldly comments, without pulling his gaze from his lane.

 

"Do you have something to say, cowboy?” Hanzo asks with a quirked eyebrow, wary of an argument.

 

"No honor in men who kill for profit," he replies, no aggression in his voice. The comment makes him bristle regardless.

 

"Would you rather I kill for free as you did in Blackwatch?” he demands, turning toward McCree. “Or are you going to claim moral superiority over me because you did the bidding of an organization and not your own? Or would you rather I live as a bounty hunter? Being the middleman in criminal’s executions but not their executioner. Do not lecture me about honor when you yourself do not possess it.”

 

McCree dryly laughs. "Your argument relies on the assumption that I think I have honor,” he says with a wink. “Besides, I made sure to do my research. I don’t know if you know it, but you got modus of operandi.”

 

"Do I now?" Hanzo dryly replies.

 

"Sure do. When you worked for the clan, your targets were enemies of the Shimadas. After you left, you started takin’ jobs that involved heinous crimes. Rapists, abusers, violent racists, stalkers...kinslayers." For the first time since he entered the range, McCree turns to look at him. "The file even included that you did all of this at a drastically reduced price."

 

Rolling his eyes, Hanzo says, "What do you wish me to say? If I must have such a revolting talent, I might as well use it to rid the world of those who do wrong."

 

"Just didn' expect you. of all people, to have a strong set of morals."

 

Returning to his practice, Hanzo gruffly replies, "You only know me through preconceived notions. If you truly want to know the man I am, I suggest getting to know me."

 

McCree smiles and shakes his head. "You give me a headache, you know that?"

 

"I am guessing that you usually are the one dispensing the headaches and not vice versa?" Hanzo quips with a small smile.

 

"It's weird being on base who is as much of an asshole as me."

 

"Nonsense. You have worked with Genji before so it is not a completely farfetched concept."

 

They fall into an easy conversation after that. McCree suggests moving to the combat area for some light sparring. Feeling emboldened and strangely social, Hanzo agrees. It would be intriguing to see what fighting style such a crude man adopts. Luckily, Hanzo does not have to return to his room to change into his battle garments as he is appropriately enough dressed. He adorns a tight black t-shirt and basketball shorts, far from his usual high brow fashion.

 

Midway in their fight, it occurs to Hanzo that McCree is a lot stronger than anticipated. While Hanzo is not weak by any means, it seems he has met his match in the form of this scruffy man. The cowboy is not sophisticated by any means but he’s managed to knock Hanzo down more than once, graciously avoiding his face. The assassin adopts a style that involves more redirection than brute force. Any punch thrown at Hanzo is not flat out blocked, rather dodged or has its momentum used against McCree. The sight of his teammate on the floor brings Hanzo a pleasure that he has not felt in a while. Soon the favor of the fight turned wholly in the archer’s favor.

 

“Oof!” McCree huffs when he plops on the floor in exhaustion, not caring that Hanzo remains standing. “God I am too old for this shit.”

 

Condescendingly, Hanzo sneers, “Maybe you should exercise more. Goodness knows you could stand to take care of yourself more!”

 

“You know, I like you a whole lot better when you’re excersin’. You piss me off a whole lot less,” McCree says with a whole lot less bite than usual.

 

Just as he was going to respond, Genji bursts in the room. His brother seems to be out of breath and be hurried. I was not aware that an abomination could run out of breath, Hanzo thinks with a pang of guilt following after.

 

His brother proclaims, “I am so sorry! I lost track of time! Have you been waiting long, Hanzo?” Genji does not pause to greet McCree which seems weird to Hanzo.

 

“Yes, I have. I do not expect you to fulfill promises,” Hanzo fumes. “Luckily, McCree took your place.” The aforementioned shifts uncomfortably on the ground.

 

Adopting a defensive stance, Genji says, “It’s not a big deal. I don’t know why you freak out about every little thing.”

 

He gives a mirthless laugh. “You have not changed in years, brother. You only think of yourself. Everyone else around you are supposed to cater to your whim because, as much as you like to think otherwise, you are as much of a Shimada as I am.”

 

McCree’s eyebrows shoot up and he quietly winces. As much as Genji knows how to verbally hurt Hanzo, it applies vice versa as well. Judging from his brother’s silence, he assumes his words hit their mark.

 

“You…aren’t as perfect as you think you are,” Genji quietly says. “You can join Overwatch but you haven’t actually changed who you are.”

 

“No, brother, that is the difference between us. I acknowledge the worst parts of myself and I accept them. I am selfish, cruel, and rude. No matter what I do, I will always be a Shimada. You may have accepted the machine part of you, but you are incorrect if that is the worst part of you. Once you accept this, your life will be a lot less tumultuous.” Perhaps this was not the conversation to have in front of McCree and the situation that spurred this did not warrant such cruelty from Hanzo. Still, this has been something on his mind for a while. A sword could slice through the tension in the air. It would not surprise Hanzo if his brother fought him with the intent to harm. He cannot fully gauge Genji’s reactions due to his facemask but from the way he stands, unmoving with a tense posture, gives Hanzo enough of an indication.

 

Wordlessly, Genji exits the sparring area, quietly closing the door behind him. Without taking his eyes off the door, Hanzo blandly says, “Forgive us that you had to see that display, McCree.”

 

“H-huh?” McCree stutters out before regaining his composure. “It’s no problem. Not my place to interfere with family business.”

 

Hanzo hums with doubt. “You? Not having anything to say? That’s a rarity. If I would have known that all it took was getting into a fight with my brother, I would keep you around us constantly.”

 

Hesitantly, he responds, “You two goin’ be okay?”

 

Sighing, Hanzo says, “We will have to be.”

 

\--

Setting his hair free from the gold sash, Hanzo gives Athena the command to start the shower. Moisture seeps into the already humid air and creates a suffocating atmosphere in the bathroom. Bathing is among the only few things left that allows Hanzo feel alive. For the longest time after Genji's death, it was a struggle finding the motivation to remain hygienic. Luckily, he’s regained his passion in the past year.

 

Once he finishes his shower, he is greeted with his bare room. No much decoration adorns the walls, only the bare necessities occupy space in his quarters. One corner is where he keeps his food ingredients and in the other is where he keeps Storm Bow, dissembled and awaiting the next mission. And, of course, he has his Overwatch issued phone and computer, although he rarely uses either. The room is lacking in any soul or personality, just as he wants. Hanzo prefers to live as though he is leaving the very next day. A knock on the door gives him pause.

 

"Hanzo, open up, it's me," his brother's voice asks through the door. A shot of adrenaline shoots through his veins. Their fight was hours ago. It is currently midnight, a time which nothing good ever takes place. He considers feigning sleep but despite Hanzo’s personal anger, his brother deserves an audience.

 

Opening the door, he is greeted by a Genji,.4 sans facemask. He hates it when his brother takes it off but he also hates it when he keeps it on. The thought of his brother being a machine is revolting to him but Hanzo is the only one to blame. Their father was rather racist toward Omnics and some of that bigotry, unfortunately, lives on in Hanzo. It took a while before he could even admit that this cyborg was his brother.

 

“What do you want?” Hanzo asks, pointedly not inviting him inside his quarters.

 

Hesitantly, Genji looks away. Quietly he says, “You’re right.”

 

Hanzo’s eyebrows shoot up. He can count on one hand how many times his brother genuinely apologized. Truth be told, he was not expecting one and was willing to offer one after a few days apart. Silence rests between them, Hanzo trying to digest the implications of Genji’s words.

 

Genji continues, “I am more of a Shimada than I give myself credit for. I occasionally am selfish and don’t consider other’s emotions. Just because I accepted my machine side does not mean I have accepted my human side.” Suddenly determined, he gives Hanzo a hard look and says, “If we are to learn brothers again, we need to both accept the worst about each other and ourselves. No one said that this was supposed to be easy. I just want to know that I love you, brother.”

 

Eyes that have not felt threatened by tears suddenly start prickling and weakness dances on his tongue. Hanzo struggles to identify the emotions he feels, let alone put them into words. He knows he must be wearing a foolish look but he cannot help it. Genji was always the least emotional between the two brothers, which was a statement if you consider Hanzo’s resistance to being intimate. This was the most vulnerable Hanzo has witnessed Genji in years. Moments pass, Hanzo choosing to leave them in silence for fear that he would end up floundering. Genji looks away, seemingly uncomfortable.

 

“Anyways, I will leave you to prepare for your mission. I will see you off tomorrow. Good night, brother,” he says while beginning to walk down the hall.

 

Hanzo halts him by blurting, “Selfishness aside, you’ve always been a better person than I. You are more admirable than you give yourself credit for.”

 

Genji looks at him, with no emotion on his face. He gives one single nod before disappearing into the darkness of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo is such a troubled, complex character. I think he tries to do good but he doesn't know what that is. I think there is a part of him that thinks Genji is the antithesis of good because of what the clan taught him about an honorable person. Genji and Hanzo are both incredibly similar but worlds apart, in my opinion. At the end of this chapter, they're learning how to be brothers again that with who they are currently as people. 
> 
> Edit: 6/17/2018. Minor descriptive change and endnote changes


	5. Hazy, Black Mist

Jesse McCree

5 AM feels like the personification of eye bags and coffee. Without this damned mission, Jesse McCree would be relaxing in bed, maybe waking and baking, maybe snacking, maybe beating one off. What specifically doesn't matter, what matters is the lack of choice. He's going to destroy each and every Talon member for making him wake up this early.

 

Jesse is lounging in Orca, hat over his eyes, chasing after any sleep that he can 15 minutes before departure. He's wearing his standard mission attire, with his favorite Stenson on his head. One by one, agents file into the dropship. The quiet footsteps of Hanzo's prosthetics are the first ones he hears. Tipping his hat up to observe, McCree sees Hanzo sitting across from him, outfitted in a dark green, baggy, wool sweatshirt with black athletic pants. His hair is pulled back in a ponytail, devoid of its usual silk scarf binding. He’s eating an orange, reading a book, and drinking water. It's almost a crime to watch someone drink non-caffeinated drinks this early in the morning.

 

"Do you ever quit, Shimada?" Jesse dryly asks.

 

Without looking up from his book, Hanzo replies, "Speak intelligible English if you wish to converse with me, cowboy." He pops an orange slice into his mouth. The others file in one by one, Mercy is the first and D.Va arriving 45 seconds before departure. He gives Athena the command to head to Numbani after he's taken a headcount.

 

"Okay everyone listen up!" Jesse gets up, calling to attention for a debrief. "We are heading to Numbani to investigate the validity of claims of a Talon base there. We are going to go undercover to infiltrate their meeting. Tracer will be serving as our flanker this mission. You got the EMP, Oxton?"

 

She responds by flashing it and subsequently putting it back in her satchel. McCree nods and continues, "Okay good. So Mercy, D.Va, Lucio and I will be one the ground, in the town square. A friendly reminder: people undercover, are _not_ supposed to converse with each other." He pointedly looks at D.Va and Lucio, who both have the decency to act sheepish. Last mission they were stationed on together, they were caught playing Roulettes in Vegas, nearly blowing the whole op.

 

"Finally, Shimada will be on the rooftop. Our resident sniper. Shame you aren't going undercover, Shimada. Your casual getup doesn’t make you look like the heir of nothing," Jesse teases.

"And your ‘getup’ makes you look like a Mexican, homeless, wannabe Clint Eastwood" Hanzo fires back with a ghost of a smile.

 

Dramatically putting his prosthetic hand over his heart, Jesse gasps, "And arrows are not the only thing Hanzo Shimada wields with lethal precision. Words are his true weapon!"

 

Shaking his head, he returns his attention to his book and retorts, "I am sure I would be more helpful on the rooftop shooting arrows instead of hurling insults at them."

 

D.Va raises her hand.

 

Jesse sighs. "D.Va for the last time, you don't have to raise your hand every time you want to ask a question. Just ask it please." He sighs again when she doesn't put down her hand.

 

"Where will our gear be?" she points out.

 

"All the gear will be on the roof with Hanzo, our first drop off point," he informs her.

 

Mercy frowns. She turns to Hanzo and asks, "Are you prepared for the task?"

 

This gives archer a pause. When he speaks, his words are slow and calculated. "Ms. Ziegler, I have been trained in combat for over a quarter of a century. I am versatile in my weapon choice and hand to hand combat. I have managed to avoid the Yakuza for over 10 years. I know 3 languages and have dealt with Genji for years. My skill is not to be questioned." Hanzo glares at her and his voice starts to get hot. "So, I request that you address your real concern, Doctor Ziegler. Ask if you all can trust me to take care of your equipment and not betray you."

 

Lucio's and D.Va's eyes widen. Tracer leans in and opts to stay quiet. And Jesse is just glad that, for once, he wasn't the one in an argument before a mission.

 

Angela doesn’t back down, holding Hanzo’s steely gaze. It's no secret that these two despise each other. Jesse can't blame Angela too much since she was the one that operated on Genji. Can't blame Hanzo too much either for defending himself. It’s entertaining as hell to watch them go at each other’s throats, he almost wants to get popcorn and Slim Jims to watch the show.

 

"If the mission is to erode because of anything, Doctor Ziegler," Hanzo hisses, "it will be because of your lack of trust and thinly veiled aggression. If I were to betray Overwatch, stealing my teammates' equipment would be tacky at best, poorly thought out at worst. I will no longer entertain this line of conversation. McCree, conclude with the debrief."

 

"Only I can decide whether to finish the briefing," he informs with crossed arms.

 

Hanzo raises his eyebrow. "You have more information to give?"

 

Giving his best million-dollar smile, McCree says, "Nope but it's my prerogative to end it whenever I see fit."

 

"Well, I do not wish to encroach on your prerogative.  I will continue reading my book so I will not succumb to the temptation to do so," Hanzo says, rolling his eyes. Making good on his promise, he puts earbuds in and continues to read his book.

 

"That's good of a time as any to dismiss. ETA is 6 hours, people!" Jesse announces.

 

 

\--

 

Doodling in his sketchbook has always been a favorite pastime of Jesse's. When Gabe didn't want to talk on the way to a mission, a pencil always kept him company. His other teammates were not exactly fantastic company. With Moira, it was always a coin flip whether she was going to be weird or not and Genji hardly ever talked. He doodles pictures of old cartoon characters. They come so vividly to mind because of how familiar they are to him. When he was younger, his mom didn’t have enough to afford any other T.V package, so Jesse made do.

 

Angela is beside him, drinking tea and looking contemplative. One thing that he admires about her is her intense moral compass. She sees the world as black and white. But the thing about Hanzo is that he is the grayest motherfucker in Overwatch. It was destined that the two weren’t going to get along. She goes on these morality crusades that only end up upsetting her. If he’s being honest, he doesn't know what good could come out of Angela questioning Hanzo’s loyalty. If he actually were to betray them, he wouldn't go and confess to it.

 

Jesse doesn’t really want to get into it with her, so he settles with patting her shoulder. Angela, with a small smile on her face, places her palm over his hand and squeezes it before dropping her hand down to her lap. Far from how they used to be, but it’s getting better.

 

"Yo, Hana, you're tripping! How are you going to say that Biggie was better than Tupac? That’s blasphemy!" Lucio loudly argues. Hanzo gives them both a neutral side glance and tucks his ear buds in tighter.

 

"Because I have enough common sense! Biggie was a much better lyricist and music is poetry, Lucy, you yourself should know as much! Sorry, but not sorry." D.Va leans smugly back in her seat

 

"Actually," Tracer chimes in, "I think Jay-Z was better than either of them!" Lucio and D.Va make disgusted noises and wave her opinion away, to which the older woman replies with a good-natured giggle.

 

"Hey, Shimada-san! Do you have anything to weigh in?" Lucio calls for Hanzo. The archer responds by yanking out one earbud and raising an eyebrow in question.

 

"I don't really listen to anything besides classical music and traditional Japanese music. I think anything else is drivel," Hanzo admits.

 

Jesse mutters, "You must be fun at parties."

 

Sparing a quick sneer at McCree, Hanzo continues, "But I have to agree with Tracer, because I have deigned to listen to Jay-Z on more than one occasion. It is decent music to work out to."

 

Tracer rejoices and exclaims, "Hah! Take that!"

 

"I don't exactly know why we are supposed to listen to someone who A) Doesn't listen to hip-hop and B) Doesn't listen to anything besides classical and Japanese music. Tracer, is this really the person you want in your corner?" Hana asks.

 

“Hey!” Tracer defensively says. Sensing that his role in the conversation is over, Hanzo retreats back to his book.

 

"Wait, wait, wait, Shimada," Jesse halts. Hanzo looks mildly irritated but still gives him his attention. "So, you've never listened to Selena Quintanilla?"

 

Head shake.

 

"Bon Iver?"

 

Head shake.

 

"The White Stripes?"

 

Head shake.

 

"...you've never listened AC/DC?"

 

Head shake. _Oh, hell no._

 

"How the hell have you never listened to AC/DC? That is a crime in and of itself! Fuck being an ex-Yazuka assassin, this is the truly criminal thing about you. Atrocious!”

 

"Having good taste is atrocious?"

 

"You have _no_ taste! I can't even stand to look at you! We got to rectify this situation. You have to listen to real music."

 

He shuts his book. "Why, pray tell, would I do that? What is in it for me?"

 

Jesse strokes his chin, feigning contemplation. "How about a bet?”

 

Intrigued, Hanzo leans forward and says, "The premise is dependent on combat taking place."

 

It’s not a no. Jesse smirks, "I'm in charge of the mission, combat is an inevitability.”. Angela shakes her head and mutters about that not being a good thing. “If I win you have to listen to AC/DC. And if you will I'll, I don't know, buy you dinner and drinks?" he shrugs.

 

"Dinner?" The archer frowns.

 

"I assume that the deadly Shimada Hanzo eats?"

 

Pausing, Hanzo eventually nods and says, "Those terms are agreeable. I look forward to dining with you."

 

\--

 

Why does Jesse always have to be the one to be undercover as the tacky tourist? Floral polo, cargo shorts and a low pony tail all make him look like a dad from the early 2000s. Gabe used to say that your undercover clothes shouldn’t be too different from your normal clothes. He would always give him these ridiculous disguises and what upset Jesse the most was that everyone always believed his stories.

 

"Looking good, Jesse," Angela jokingly lilts through the comms.

 

Electing to ignore her sass, he notices a guard is posted outside the entrance to the building. Jesse grumbles into the comms, "Can anyone think of a distraction?"

 

"Distractions are my middle name, Agent McCree!" D.Va announces back.

 

"I thought that Koreans don’t have middle names like Westerners do," Lucio's voice chimes in.

 

"Kids, let's keep it on track," McCree interrupts. "D.Va, do it."

 

"Aye aye!" Hana says. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the 19-year-old start a bitch fit at the guard. Citizens start noticing the commotion, and eventually noticing that it was _the_ Hana Song.

 

"Move out!" Jesse commands. Inching toward the door, he slips in behind the guard's back. One by one, his colleagues file in behind him. He continues, "We'll have to do without Hana for the duration for the infiltration." They start inching through the barren hallways, light blue tile clacking under the weight of their footsteps. This should be the floor that the meeting is happening on. Keeping his hand on Peacekeeper, he trudges on. A deep, voice reverberates through the hall. They migrate toward the source. Through a thin door, Jesse can hear multiple voices conversing.

 

"-escalating the situation is the only way to truly test the tenacity of this city. We act. Today."

 

"Soldiers are on standby in a hotel just off of 10th street, just say the word, Doomfist and it is done," a metallic voice drifts through the door. Lucio mouths 'Doomfist' incredulously. A disturbingly cold voice interrupts the conversation, sounding like a gurgle of a dying man. It makes shivers travel along Jesse's spine.

 

"It seems we have visitors," it hisses out. “Overwatch, I know you’re there. Care to come out and play?”

 

_Not good._

 

"Time to get outta dodge everybody!" He yells. Deafening alarms begin to echo through the empty hallways.

 

"McCree," Hanzo barks through the comms, "what has happened?"

 

"Prepare for gear drop off and extraction, Shimada. We are coming in hot!" Angela yells back. They all break out into a sprint, footsteps of Talon soldiers behind them. They fill the hallways like roaches after a storm washed away their hideout.

 

"McCree, luv, do you want me to move?" Tracers asks through comm. "They still haven't noticed me."

 

"Wait till we get our equipment, Tracer," McCree orders, returning fire, and making him two kills ahead of Hanzo. He’s going to win this bet if it’s the last thing he does. Oh, and also finishing the mission. Mercy is shooting with her blaster but, bless her heart, she is a bad shot. Some things never change.

 

"Head to the entrance, there awaits the supply boxes. Talon soldiers are nearby, the center of town has been evacuated and D.Va is already in her mech," Hanzo’s voice cuts through the chaos. "Tracer, there is a drop point outside of the service entrance with your gear. I suggest you retrieve it as soon as possible."

 

"Got it!" Tracer confirms.

 

Shooting at Talon soldiers without gear on is not the best nor the safest thing that Jesse has done but he’s got to make do. Lucio is busy getting the main entrance open which leaves McCree and Mercy continue returning fire from behind an overturned coffee table. The door is open and through a shower of bullets, they see their gear.

 

D.Va, in all her pink meched glory, bursts through Talon soldiers and yells, "Hurry up! Change already, I’ll keep ‘em distracted.”

 

That girl is a godsend.

 

All around, soldiers lay dead, a lot of them sporting an arrow through their skull. The once vibrant city square is deserted, kiosks upturned and stuff previously for sale littering the ground. Not bothering to take off his clothes, McCree puts his gear over his current outfit. A little tight but he's got to make due. Now’s where the real action begins.

 

"Come on you sons a bitches," he taunts to the hoards.

 

"Or not!" Lucio yells. "It was more of a suggestion than a command."

 

The first wave is going to be rough without Tracer, but when the real head honchos of Talon reveal themselves, they're going to need a flanker. "Evac on standby Athena," he commands. God is he going to be chewed out by Winston. This was supposed to be a no combat mission. Luckily this was all according to McCree’s plan.

 

_Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang._ Reload. He's currently clocking in at 20 kills and 4 assists. Damn, was this bet too easy.

 

An arrow flies past his head, barely missing him, and finds purchase in a Talon soldier's forehead. Shimada yells, "Pay attention, McCree. I am sure you will find Talon's weapons far less desirable than mine." That soldier was way too close to Jesse and probably would have gotten a good shot off if Hanzo hadn’t have been watching his back. Gratitude is on the tip of his tongue but he doesn’t think that the archer needs an ego boost.

 

Jesse's arms start to tire, Angela is panting, and he can see sweat glisten from Lucio's forehead. They are just going to have to suck it up. Besides, this isn't nothing compared to Venice. Fanning the hammer, he simultaneously kills 3 soldiers.

 

"Prepare for evac Agent McCree!" Angela shouts over the spray of bullets.

 

He shakes his head. "No can do. We've got an objective and we won't have this opportunity again."

 

The doctor screams back, "We won't _get_ a chance if we are all dead. Call. the evac. now. McCree."

 

"Doctor Ziegler, trust McCree," Hanzo's rational voice coolly reasons. "If not because of faith in his judgment, then trust him so that the team may retain order. You are not lead on this mission, thus you cannot make the call to evacuate. Nothing is more dangerous than a lawless operation."

 

Angela looks angry, then pauses, looking away. She concedes by nodding her head in support and damage boosting McCree. He understands her, he really does, but they can't jeopardize the mission for anything. The life of agents such as them is expendable if it means taking even the slightest step toward a greater good. Though, Hanzo being in his corner is an unexpected surprise. Made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

 

Black wisps form around Jesse's spurs. A pungent, burning, chemical smell stings his nose. The foot soldiers back away and retreats back into the building, Jesse himself takes a couple of cautious steps back. His head snaps up in response to the definite click of a sniper rifle. Widowmaker is on the roof, sights pointed at the opposite rooftop. Following her gaze, he sees Hanzo on a nearby rooftop, notching an arrow toward the Talon assassin.

 

"I would wager on my bow against your rifle any day!" Hanzo haughtily says.

 

"That would be the last mistake you ever made," Widowmaker warns.

 

Beside him, black mist surrounds Angela, materializing into a familiar red headed scientist. Moira O'Deorain. The woman grabs the gun from Mercy's hand and puts a hand on her shoulder, stopping her from moving.

 

Angela looks away, a storm in her eyes. She whispers, "So this is your choice, Moira?"

 

"If you mean my choice is one of progression and innovation, then _yes_ this is my choice," Moira callously replied, not even looking at the doctor.

 

A mirthless laugh escapes Angela's lips. She then sharply turns away, unable to even look at Moira. "You always were full of such shit."

 

“Moira O’Deorain,” Jesse sneers, “Thought you didn’t like getting your hands dirty.” 

 

The red head hums. “For you, cowboy, I’ll make an exception.”

 

D.Va's mech drops to the ground and the hacker, Sombra, places her foot on top of the stationary mech, smirking. Lucio rushes to help her, but is deterred when Sombra lines up her machine pistol with D.Va's pilot seat. A threat. Lucio clenches his teeth and slowly backs away.

 

The black mist morphs into a humanoid figure with a pale white mask, immediately shoving one of his duel shotguns in his face. It’s been awhile since anyone was dumb enough to use duel shotguns. Jesse is a quick draw but he doesn't know if he's quick enough than a barrel of a shotgun. Not eager to test that theory either.

 

"Cool hat, kid," the thing mocks. The use of the diminutive nickname sets fire to Jesse’s nerves. He hasn’t been anyone’s kid in a long time.

 

Suppressing his irritation, he mutters, "Thanks. It was a gift.”

 

"They must really hate you then," the wraith blandly says. Everything is going according to plan.

 

"It has been awhile since I have seen the world as a free man,” a deep voice bellows. "I did not think that many things changed while I was in prison. It seems I was wrong, Overwatch has gotten sloppier with age." The Successor, Akande Ogundimu exits the building with hands clasped behind his back.

 

Beside him is the Omnic, Maximilien. Intel on this guy is pretty spotty. Keeps a very low profile, due his affluential status. His appearance means Talon doesn’t intend on any of them making it out. Jesse activates the evac beacon and the comm signal on his mechanical arm.

 

“Hanzo,” Ogundimu shouts at the archer’s perch, “you should consider joining us. I think we'd see eye to eye.”

 

Redirecting his harsh gaze for a split second, Hanzo replies, “I would have little to gain from such an arrangement. No, I will find my own path. You may claim resemblance to Overwatch but I am at no risk of indoctrination at Overwatch, unlike Talon.” Widowmaker slightly tenses in response to that comment.

 

“You disappoint me, Hanzo. With Talon, you could truly fulfill your destiny.”

 

“Find another errand boy, Akande,” Hanzo says, spitting out the Talon’s leader’s name.

 

Doomfist shakes his head and says, "In any case, the deaths of several Overwatch officials would serve our cause greatly, to sow chaos within the world. Especially Dr. Ziegler's death." Jesse looks over to the doctor, and he can swear that Moira is sporting a tighter grip and a tighter frown than before.

 

"Mr. Ogundimu, I make more chaos by being in the world than being removed from it," Jesse smoothly says, trying to inflict his full charm in his words, "you don't want me dead." Doomfist smirks and shakes his head.

 

The wraith menacingly sneers, "You aren't the harbinger of chaos like you claim to be, cowboy. You like to act like a badass bounty hunter but you are just a goodie two shoes agent that's past his prime."

 

"Now that's not nice at all. Tracer! Do it now!"

 

"Cheers love, the calvary's here!" She gives the two-finger salute and activates the EMP. A wave of energy passes through the whole plaza. Doomfist's gauntlet falls to the ground, rendered temporarily useless, Sombra’s tech sputters, and Maximilien falls to the ground, completely unconscious. The only two unaffected are the wraith and Moira.  

 

For a split second, Reaper's gaze falters and shifts toward his colleagues. In that second, Jesse swiftly moves forward and punches the wraith's throat, leaving him gasping for breath. He grabs its shot guns and points them at it. If he'll be honest, these duel shotguns are pretty sweet. He would have given it a whirl back in the day if Gabe wasn’t so attached to his.  

 

He hears the sound of an arrow flying overhead and looks up to see Widowmaker with aprojectile lodged in her shoulder. Mercy reverses the hold Moira had on her, the red head sporting a smug look at the reverse in positions. Sombra gets kicked off of D.Va's mech by Tracer.

 

"Cheers love," Sombra mocks, Tracer’s boot resting on her chest to prevent her from standing.

 

"Hey, that's my line!" Tracer petulantly says.

 

Lucio interrupts a soldier who is about to pick Maximilien up by laying him out. He stands him upright and points the gun at the omnic's head, slowly backing away from the Talon operatives. The head elite agents give each other looks and seem to silently agree that this fight would be a losing one.

 

Doomfist, returning back into the building, says to the leader of the group of Enforcers, "Make sure to handle this."

 

The wraith dematerializes in front of Jesse's eyes and the duel shotguns vanish into dust between the fingers of his gloves. Widowmaker limps back into the building, and Hanzo, for whatever reason, slackens his bow and elects to let her live. Moira, just like the wraith, dematerializes and slithers back into the building.

 

Sombra snickers, "Cute trick, Lena. Now here's mine." The hacker disappears. Replacing them all, are more Talon foot soldiers.

 

"Everyone prepare for extraction, now! Go!" He yells. Lucio, Mercy and Tracer all fall into Orca, but they are missing two. Jesse yells, "Hanzo, D.Va where the fuck are you two?"

 

Hanzo's voice rings through the comm, "I believe that there is something malfunctioning with Agent D.Va's mech."

 

She immediately responds with, "No! I'm fine!"

 

"Fall back Agent Song!" Jesse orders.

 

Sounding flustered and frustrated, she concedes, "I don't know if I can!”. A bone chilling pop resonates through the courtyard. Her mech was falling apart. Hana Song bursts out of the mech and into a thrall of soldiers. Hana Song, the 19-year-old girl who has only seen combat through the pilot seat of a meka is in the middle of highly trained Talon soldiers. She's not going to last a second.

 

"Shit, shit, shit," Jesse mutters. But before he can move, Hanzo quickly fires off 6 headshots and kills the soldiers closest to her and scatter shots the ones on the outskirts. Scaling down the building, Hanzo jumps toward Hana and grabs her, making sure to put his back in between her and the soldiers. Hanzo comes in hot to the transport ship, barely dodging about half a dozen bullets.

 

Now that's truly a BAMF right there.

 

Orca departs and everyone sighs a sigh of relief. Gingerly setting D.Va down, Hanzo implores, "Are you hurt, Hana?" The girl seems incredibly shaken and has a fearful, distant look in her eyes.

 

"I...could have died," she whimpers out. Fat tears roll down her cheeks. Usually very calm and cheerful, the wretched sobs that echo in the ship are spine chilling. He doesn't know if he should look away to give her privacy or to comfort her. He's not good at these touchy-feely things. Deadlock, his family, and Overwatch took away his childhood, he’s never been a real 19-year-old.

 

Hanzo does something surprising. He hugs her gently. While it looks awkward as hell, Jesse can tell that this is a genuine act of sympathy. Hana receives the hug well and wraps her arms around Hanzo, muttering her thanks.

 

"What do we do with our friend over here?" Angela asks, braving to break the tense silence. Finally, something Jesse has the answer to.  

 

"Max here," he gestures to the unconscious omnic, "is going to be taken to the UN."

 

“Why?” Lucio asks.

 

“It’s a peace offering. These countries aren’t stupid, they know that we are resuming operations. If we bring him in, it’ll show we are ready to cooperate.”

 

“And if it doesn’t work?” Angela skeptically questions.

 

“It will. I’ve been to prison once; didn’t take to it and I’m not going back.”

 

Sighing, Angela shakes her head. “Winston is going to be so angry at you.”

 

"Damn right he is," he responds with glee in his voice. "And I also got 50 kills, which means that Hanzo is listening to AC/DC when we get back to base."

 

Still patting Hana's back, Hanzo turns to Jesse with a mean grin and says, "Oh, I would not count on that. I recommend getting your pocket book ready because you are servicing me to dinner. I got 76 kills."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing mission chapters is hard and big boring. but like taxes, I gotta do it


	6. The Disingenuous and the Geniune

 

Hanzo Shimada

 

Despite his exhaustion, after the mission, Hanzo had to report into Winston for a mandatory report. He is exhausted enough without having to end his 18-hour day listening to McCree and Winston get into a screaming match. It could have been worse. He has been having trouble with sleep, the only time he can sleep is 5-hour naps in the middle of the day. So, attending a post-mission debrief only prolonged inevitable insomnia. And Winston was less angry with the outcome of the mission than McCree’s lack of communication.

 

Just as he is about to prepare for a shower, a ringtone emanating from his sweatshirt pocket startles him. The caller ID says that it is his brother and he decides whether or not to ignore the call. Not wanting to provoke a future argument, he answers.

 

Genji immediately asks, "Want to get dinner?"

 

While he should eat food as he was sorely lacking in nutrients, the thought was not appealing in the least. Lately, he has been experiencing a severe appetite loss that has led to him losing a few pounds accentuated with periods of overeating. Luckily, he is not close enough to anyone on base for anyone to notice and his brother has the situational and emotional awareness of a rock.

 

"No, thank you. Perhaps another time?” Hanzo suggests.

 

"Oh, okay," Genji curtly replies before hanging up, obviously feeling cross with Hanzo and something that he will sort out later.  

 

Though he would never admit it out loud, he wishes he was more like McCree. The man is self-assured and confident in his morals, but not in an oppressive way like Doctor Ziegler. He is a natural born leader that has so much charm that he gets away with being a mouthy stoner. Everything Jesse McCree does seem easy and effortless. The man is sure of himself and his place in the world, something that eludes Hanzo. It is enough to make the archer resent the cowboy. Part of Hanzo genuinely believes that he is the pinnacle of perfection where the other part quietly stews in his own self-hatred. Jealousy is an ugly emotion and he would rather have his legs chopped off again than accept it.

 

\--

 

If Hanzo is being transparent, he will admit to forgetting about the bet with McCree. Winning was more about bragging rights than the actual rewards. A week later, Hanzo is surprised when the cowboy approaches him with an offer to take him out to a, quote, ‘fancy Japanese restaurant.’

 

The archer was sitting in the conference room refreshing his geometry knowledge when Jesse McCree announces, "So when are you free for your victory dinner?"

 

"What are you on about?” Hanzo says, confused. “Oh, you are referring to that.”

 

"Yeah _that_. We got to hurry up and do it because I don't like having things hang over my head."

 

"How noble of you," Hanzo sarcastically replies.

 

"Come on Shimada, I'll let you pick anywhere. Genji told me you weren't eating enough anyway so it's like two birds one stone," McCree casually reasons, leaning against the wall.

 

Hanzo cannot _believe_ his brother told McCree his private business. He was aware that in the past week, Genji and the cowboy have been talking more but that does _not_ give his brother permission to discuss personal matters with a stranger.

 

"I do not wish to discuss my personal life with a man who probably thinks socks with sandals is the pinnacle of fashion,” Hanzo fumes, putting as much bite into his words as possible.

 

"What's that supposed to mean?" McCree defensively demands.

 

"It is as it sounds or is the mop that you call hair covering your ears so you cannot hear properly," he insults.

 

McCree looks furious. Silence passes and that fury begins to dissipate. Finally, the cowboy gives a long sigh and focuses his eyes on the wall. "I’m sorry Shimada, I shouldn't have brought up your personal business. Believe it or not, I get being defensive over these sorts of things. You acted like an ass, but I’d have done the same thing.”

 

“Jesse McCree? Electing to apologize instead of getting angry and continuing to fight? What is this world coming to?” Hanzo dryly quips.

 

Frowning, McCree tersely says, “I know when to call a spade a spade.”

 

“Well …you must forgive me for acting unworthy myself. I should have kept a rein on my temper,” Hanzo apologizes with a light bow. Level-headedness has always been the feature attributed to the archer, not his temper. Lately, though that has changed. Hanzo continues, “If the offer is still available, I would love to dine with you, McCree."

 

"Whatever. You free today at 8?"

 

"I find that agreeable."

 

"Let's hope you are agreeable enough during the actual dinner. I found a fancy Japanese restaurant called Sakura Palace.”

 

“If I could go my entire life without hearing you trying to speak any semblance of Japanese, I would lament that it was not long enough,” Hanzo says with no real bite in his voice.

 

"I got to go to my training for the week and resist the urge to punch you. I’ll catch you at 8?"

 

Hanzo sneers, "How are you not done with your training quota?” The cowboy doesn’t respond and flashes a rude gesture on his way out.

 

\--

"I am going out with McCree tonight, Ms. Song. I am afraid I cannot accompany you into town,” Hanzo apologizes. She joined him shortly after McCree left. Ever since the mission, she has been seeking him out for the company. The only reason he tolerates it is that she is not intrusive and frequently makes him laugh. She has been getting better since the Numbani incident and has made almost a full emotional recovery. Hanzo has taken it upon himself to teach her hand to hand combat and how to aim that peashooter she calls a gun. It is slow going,

 

"That’s okay!” She says, not looking up from her phone. “But you’re going out with McCree? I didn't think he'd be your type. I was thinking more of a clean-cut guy.”  

 

"Not that kind of going out, Ms. Song."

 

"It's Hana."

 

"Ms. Song."

 

Rolling her eyes, she slumps lower in her chair. She suddenly rises up and gasps, seemingly reminded of something. "Hey, Hanzo! I found a math problem I'd thought you enjoy solving!"

 

"I am not unintelligent, Ms. Song. I am _not_ doing a math problem from your online college homework. Winston wants you to keep up with your studies while at Overwatch. I will, however, tutor you,” Hanzo says.

 

She flops back down. "Nah, a lady has her pride," she dismisses and resumes playing on her phone.

 

"But not enough pride to prevent you from attempting to deceive someone into doing your math homework?" Hanzo accuses with a quirked eyebrow.

 

She points finger guns at him and says, "Bingo! Anyways, good luck with McCree tonight! You are both assholes so maybe you'll cancel each other out. Like two negatives!"

 

"Perhaps."

 

\--

 

"Have you been waiting for me long?" McCree asks.

 

"It has felt like eons that I have been standing in front of this restaurant. How is this a victory prize for me if I am getting increasingly inconvenienced by it?" Hanzo asks.

 

As they both start walking inside, McCree defends himself, “Hey you were the one who agreed to go! And we all know _the_ Shimada Hanzo would never do anything that he doesn’t want to.” He can think of one thing he was forced to do against his will, but fratricide is not fantastic dinner conversation so he keeps that retort to himself.

 

Their hostess is Caucasian and the decor is tacky. Hanzo does not anticipate his dining experience to be authentic. He voices his displeasure to his companion. Sitting down at their table, McCree agrees, "Oh yeah, the place is whitewashed to hell. They do this shit with Mexican restaurants too. The food is almost unrecognizable and makes the entire the place over the top and stereotypical. Although, I will admit that I eat at Taco Bell from time to time."

 

"Really?" Hanzo had thought that establishment to be long since shut down. It was 2071 after all and the restaurant seemed far past its expiration date. Though it seems fitting for a man like McCree.

 

"Yeah, I eat there from time to time. It’s good food for when you’re high.”  He chuckles. “Don’t tell anyone, I've got my authentic, Mexican image to uphold. And before you say anything: don’t go making fun of my image, Shimada.”

 

Hanzo snorts. "Please. Do you really think I would stoop to such a low hanging fruit?" Their server comes to take their order and he orders a water with lemon whereas McCree chooses a carbonated beverage.

 

"So, what you like to do for enjoyment?" Hanzo politely questions after the waiter departed from their table.

 

"Didn't peg you for the small talk type," McCree says with a ghost of a smile.

 

Hanzo scoffs, "You don’t get to be the head of one of the biggest criminal empires in the world and not know how to keep people entertained. I know it does not always seem like it but I can be quite charming when I want to be.”

 

McCree mutters, “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Their waiter asks if they could take their order. Hanzo places an order for the ‘Shogun Supreme Salmon Slab’. Internally sighing at the embarrassing name, he gives the menu back to the waiter. McCree orders burger and fries, stealing an amused glance toward Hanzo. The archer can hardly contain his laughter.

 

After the waiter left, they paused a moment. Hanzo breaks the silence with laughter he has not felt in years. With his hands over his eyes and in between bouts of laughter, he manages to say, "I cannot believe you ordered a burger at a Japanese restaurant. What the hell is wrong with you?"

 

"Hey now, don't go judging a man on his choice in food," McCree says in mock anger. "You yourself said that this wasn't even authentic!"

 

More laughter washes over him. "But that doesn't equate to ordering a burger at a Japanese restaurant!"

 

"You know what?" McCree points at Hanzo. "Fuck you, Shimada."

 

His amusement slowly dying down, the archer takes a drink of water and responds, "You couldn't afford me."

 

McCree rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his own drink. The cowboy attempts to defend himself one last time, “So you’re saying that you don’t get the urge to eat a nice burger every now and then?”

 

Fully recovered from his amusement, Hanzo shakes his head and replies, "No not at all. I think red meat is vile.”

 

McCree chuckles, “So you’re a pescatarian, huh? Couldn't ever do that. Love meat too much."

 

"Evidently," Hanzo says, pointedly looking at the greasy, fat saturated burger that the waiter is serving to McCree. Luckily his salmon looks passable. Genji has always been the higher maintenance out of the two, except when it comes to food. Hanzo has always been an extremely picky eater.

 

"Enjoy," the waiter blandly says before disappearing into the back kitchen. They are both silent as they focus on their meals.

 

After a long stretch of quiet, McCree blurt out, “Movies, by the way.”

 

"Pardon me?" Hanzo says with a quirked eyebrow.

 

"You asked earlier what I like to do. And it's watching movies."

 

"Really? I would have expected you sit around in your room listening to Tim McGraw," Hanzo jests.

 

"Hardy har, don't quit your day job, Shimada. What do you like you do?"

 

"I like to read…and practice my mathematics I suppose," Hanzo hesitantly says.

 

"Not a man with many hobbies, huh?” McCree asks with a quirked head. A disgusted look sprouts on the man’s face. “This food kind of blows if I’ll be honest.”

 

"To be expected from American food at a Japanese restaurant," Hanzo matter-of-factly quips.

 

"Want to get out of here?" McCree asks lowly, smirking.

 

"Rather forward, Agent McCree?" Hanzo scowls at the proposition. He should have known that McCree was only interested in having sex.

 

McCree’s face widens in surprise. “What? No! I'm not going to fuck Genji's brother, that'd be in poor taste! No, I just want to get wasted tonight."

 

"What makes you think that I want to get, as you say, wasted?" Hanzo asks.

 

"Do you enjoy being difficult or is it just your default?" McCree scowls.

 

“I take little pleasure in most things,” Hanzo smirks, “but pissing you off always brings a smile to my face, cowboy.”

 

\--

Standing at the entrance to McCree's door inspires a bit of paranoia when he realized that, as much as he makes light of the man, Hanzo is in the cowboy’s domain and could kill him at any second. McCree holds up a dime bag of weed and a bottle of alcohol and inquires, "What'll be the poison tonight, Shimada-san?"

 

Hanzo gives a dissatisfied grunt and responds, “Dealers choice, I suppose.”

 

The cowboy nods and sits down at his Overwatch issued desk, extracting blunt paper. Drugs are something that Hanzo’s family used to deal with. A strict rule was to never take from the clan’s stash. Because of that, he has not smoked weed since he was a rebellious teenager with Genji. Whis he is smoking weed with McCree now, after all these years, when he has felt no desire to in the past? He could make the excuse that he wishes to claim that he smoked weed with a real-life cowboy or that he had nothing better to do on a Friday night. Really, all he wants is to spend time with someone besides himself and his brother.

 

Genji has also said how much Hanzo needs to chill out and has suggested marijuana multiple times.

 

He leisurely surveys McCree’s room. In one corner of McCree’s room sits a rather large collection of movies. On the walls hangs hand-drawn pictures. Hanzo’s hand ghost over the frames, careful not to touch them. There is one with an abstract design. Another is a delicate picture of a rose. On the window sill, there is one propped up. Even from a distance, he can tell that extra care invested in this one. The lines of the pencil are delicate and the shading is gentle and intricate. He slowly picks up the portrait. The man was smiling and looking off into the distance. Hanzo wonders if this man was an old lover, a friend, or a family member?

 

"Heyheyhey, didn't your mother ever teach you it's rude to rummage through people's stuff?" McCree shouts, getting up from his seat and snatching the frame from his hands.

 

"Forgive my rudeness," Hanzo plainly apologizes. Judging from the cowboy’s reaction, this is a topic that even Hanzo does not want to push.

 

McCree frowns. Slowly, he places the frame back on the window, sparing a piercing glare before returning to his task. Hanzo takes a seat on the bed, which has a flannel blanket and the pillows have a horrific horse print on them.

 

McCree saunters over and seats himself on the bed, mood completely restored, and lowly says to Hanzo, "Seems I'm going to be turning you to the dark side.” A shiver runs down Hanzo’s spine. He is beyond mortified to realize his momentary attraction to McCree. God, he was getting soft.

 

Flustered, Hanzo says, "Would you move it along? I am not eager to continue this conversation whilst sober.” McCree wordlessly moves the blunt near Hanzo’s mouth, waiting for the archer to accept it. They both maintain eye contact as he accepts the blunt and McCree lights him up.

 

The drag is smooth and smells less like skunk and body odor than Hanzo remembers. His head begins to feel not as tightly screwed on as it usually is. He did not realize how much noise was in his brain until he experiences quiet.

 

"Don't hog the weed. Sharing is caring," McCree urges, gesturing for Hanzo to hand it over. The cowboy takes a puff and blows the smoke in the archer’s face. When the plume of smoke dissipates, McCree’s smug face is revealed.

 

"Insolence," Hanzo barks. McCree responds with an easy smile and reclines back on the bed. Hanzo continues, “I would ask where you got these drugs from but that would make me an accessory to your crimes."

 

McCree languidly laughs. "The Shimadas were a powerful drug cartel. I hardly think that this is the worst thing you’ve ever been an accessory to.” Craning his head to look at Hanzo, McCree suggestively says, “Even if we were to get caught, I could think of worse people to be stuck in a jail cell with.”

 

“I could not think of anyone worse to be stuck in confinement with. You are an incorrigible flirt, Jesse McCree,” Hanzo scowls before taking another drag.

 

“Guilty as charged,” he chuckles. “Damn Shimada, didn’t your mother teach you how to properly share weed?” McCree says irritated and snatches he blunt from the other man.

 

“The only thing my mother taught me was how to leave in the middle of the night and never contact kin again. Something I unexpectedly needed,” Hanzo bitterly says, peering at the ceiling ponderingly. The cowboy props himself up with an elbow and lightly nods, trying to come up with something to say.

 

Voice gravelly and with a hint of vulnerability, McCree eventually responds, “The only thing my mother taught me was that pleasing your husband was more important than your kid’s safety. So, I get you. Sorry about bringing it up.”

 

The way his voice sounded says to Hanzo that McCree would not appreciate any more questions about the topic of his family history, so he just moves on. With a dark laugh, the archer reassures, “You are okay, McCree. I am no longer affected by it. Just be glad this conversation was not with my brother. Even after all these years, he is a lot more emotional about it than I am. Come, I do not want to waste my high talking about things in the past.”

 

McCree frowns, looking away. Not paying attention to how much of a drag he takes, the cowboy starts coughing up a storm. These coughs give way to unabashed laughter. The sight of his companion with such strange glee makes laughter bubble in Hanzo’s chest too. Hours pass, maybe even days of them laughing. It feels like they have been together for an eternity and Hanzo is surprisingly okay with that. He feels disbelief when he looks over at the clock and sees only 30 minutes have passed since he arrived in McCree’s room.

 

McCree suddenly slurs, "Will we go back to being uneasy acquaintances after we are sober, Shimada?" A thick layer of smoke layers the room and Hanzo can barely speak what is on his mind.

 

He hums. "Call me Hanzo. Shimada reminds me too much of…just do not call me that."

 

"Got it, _Hanzo_ ," McCree finger guns back at him.

 

They fill the humid air with words talking about everything and nothing. When the weed ran out and they recovered from their high, Hanzo still remains in McCree’s room until the late hours of the night. His voice is ragged from talking, not knowing the last time he has talked this much with someone else. When Hanzo finally returned to his room at an ungodly hour, he found he could sleep slightly easier.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing was one big bitch. This chapter was originally twice as long but I decided to split it up into two chapters. I asked my friend to help me with editing because I triple edit my chapters and hoo boy that is a lot of work. 
> 
> Also, I totally don't know what's it's like to smoke weed haha *nervous laughter* It's the devil's lettuce


	7. Dilapidated Building Filled with Destroyed Hopes and Dreams

Jesse McCree\

Jesse just got back from Numbani on a trip to negotiate the government’s silence. Luckily, they were extremely personable and willing to accommodate for Overwatch's lack of legality. Capturing the Omnic Maximilien and turning him over to the UN certainly didn’t hurt Jesse’s negotiations with Numbani. Even though it’s a bore being responsible for something this important, he feels as though it’s his responsibility to get rid of Talon as it's what Gabe would have wanted. He’s not really a leader but he’s not really a follower. Jesse McCree isn’t really even a joiner. He likes to think of himself as a drifter.

 

After arriving at his quarters, he checks his phone and sees two missed text messages. One is someone who is the new lead for the case. She is an informant and an old friend. It’s a wonder how she hasn’t ended up dead or in jail after all these years. He texts her a confirmation of the meeting time and place. If Winston got wind of how extralegal Jesse’s contacts are, he would go ape shit, play on words intended. So that’s why the monkey won’t hear about this meeting. To be fair, he wasn’t the one who set up the meeting. She said that she’s got information on Talon that she’d be willing to part with for money. A damned opportunist that one is.

 

The other text is from Hanzo, which almost makes Jesse’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline. If Jesse is being honest, as fun as it was hanging out with Mr. Sour and Dour, he didn't think it would turn into a repeat performance. Jesse thought that he would simply upgrade from bitter scowls to normal scowls or even, heaven forbid, a hello in the hallways.

 

From: Hanzo

   >Lounge B23. Repay your favor.

      -Shimada Hanzo

 

Hanzo practically radiates vibes of someone who signs their name after every text. The text is so cryptic and strange. Knowing Hanzo, repayment could mean anything from a package of socks to unsolicited advice on how to improve Jesse’s aim. Or sex. But Jesse didn’t do anything to deserve a blow job so that’s out of the question. Plus, Hanzo doesn’t seem like the casual fling type of guy. Best way to figure out is to text him back.

 

To: Hanzo

  
   >Lol k. I’ll meet u there.

 

  
He heads over to lounge B23 which is in the newly renovated part of the base and a 15-minute walk. It's near Hanzo's room, which is probably why the man asked him to come over there. It seems that the archer is missing the point of a favor, to not further inconvenience the other person. Maybe this is payback for Jesse making Hanzo wait before dinner.

 

The pitch-black outside is only illuminated by artificial, industrial grade lights. Walking this late reminds him of the many late-night strolls with Gabe. Jack or Ana accompanied them once or twice, but it was mostly just them. Like how it always was. Jesse was his right-hand man and was Gabe's closest confidant. Damn. Does he miss him. The second the world is saved and justice is served, he's hitting the road, no looking back.

 

On the other side of the entrance to Lounge B23 sits Hanzo, who is sitting with perfect posture and writing something on the blackboard. "I greet you, McCree," Hanzo acknowledges Jesse, briefly bowing before returning back to his work. Jesse glances over Hanzo’s shoulder and sees that he is doing math. Gross.

 

Electing to avoid another argument on the merits of math, Jesse instead asks, "What's all this about, Hanzo?" McCree asks, arms crossed and with exaggerated frustration. "Is this an execution? Some weird Shimada tradition where you kill anybody who gets too close to you?"

 

Hanzo snorts, “You must not know me all that well cowboy if you think I will waste an arrow on the likes of you.” He pulls his attention away from his task and levels a steady gaze at McCree. "No. As I said in the message, I intend to repay your favor. I acted poorly 2 nights ago and I wish to apologize. I will strive to present myself better to you in the future." A deep bow in apology.

 

Flustered, McCree can feel his face getting prickly. He scratches the back of his head and grumbles, "Damn, Hanzo, we break the law together and you still are worrying about looks and appearances. It’s okay, you don’t got to do anything.”

 

Shaking his head adamantly, Hanzo insists, "Appearances are everything, Jesse McCree." Hanzo looks him up and down, eyebrows quirking at McCree’s sweatpants and T-Shirt. Hanzo jibes, "Though, I get the sense that you are not very knowledgeable about appearances, McCree.”

 

"Hey! I didn’t know that we were going out. Plus, I have it on good faith that these sweatpants are chick and dude magnets. Everyone loves a man in casual clothes.”

 

“Casual clothes does not give you permission to wear those things outside. Especially not in my company.” Hanzo scrunches up his face, looking like the spoiled heir he is. “Are you certain you do not want to return to your room to change?”

 

Dramatically, Jesse gasps, “How dare you even suggest that! I made my bed and now I will proceed to lay in it.” To be honest, he knows that it’s a bit embarrassing to go out with someone who looks like they are ready for bed and he would have suggested it if Hanzo hadn’t already had. Now Jesse has to be difficult on principal.

 

Rolling his eyes, Hanzo informs him, “I ordered a taxi car to take us into town.”

 

"Okay so where, pray tell, are we going?"

 

Hanzo’s face twists in displeasure for a split second before saying, “Do you not wished to be surprised, bumpkin?” So, he doesn't like their destination. Well, if Hanzo doesn't like where they are going then it can't be all bad.

 

Hanzo Shimada

 

Jesse McCree has no right looking as excited as he does at the sight of a delipidated Taco Bell. The smile does wonders for the man, making him appear far younger. This, along with his low ponytail and atrocious wardrobe give Hanzo all the clues he needs to surmise what McCree looked like in his twenties. As much as he insulted him for it, there is not denying the cowboy’s physical attractiveness, though that is an opinion that Hanzo will take with him to the grave.

  
  
"You are missing a statement of gratitude, McCree," he scathingly observes, faux irritation in his voice. The other man turns suddenly to him, face looking grimly serious. McCree's gentle hands reach up and find purchase on Hanzo's shoulders, firm and unwavering.

 

"Shimada Hanzo,” McCree gravely utters, “will you…marry me?" This proposal is overheard by a couple walking by. The couple lightly giggles and give their encouraging thumbs up before entering the restaurant. The word mortified does not even begin to describe how Hanzo feels right now.

 

“I know you can stoop low, McCree. But proposing marriage to a man simply because he took you to a Taco Bell is pretty low,” Hanzo dryly says before shrugging off the cowboy’s hands.

 

McCree waggles his eyebrows and winks. He suggestively says, “I can go a lot lower than that, don’t you worry.”

 

“I have no doubt about that,” Hanzo says, rolling his eyes and waiting for the other man to open the door for him. McCree opens the door for himself and only himself, not bothering to hold it open for Hanzo. Irritation swells in his chest although maybe it is a blessing that McCree does not treat him like a lord.

 

The restaurant is oily and dirty. Every time he lifts his shoes off of the ground, a sticky substance creates some resistance. It smells of processed beef and destroyed hopes and dreams. The menu has not looked like it has been replaced in over a decade. Hanzo wants to ask where McCree even found this place. How low Shimada Hanzo has fallen to stoop to taking a real-life cowboy to a dying restaurant chain.

  
  
"What are you getting?" McCree drawls, interrupting his observations.

 

Disinterested, he quickly glances over the menu and concludes, "Whatever you are having."

 

Chuckling, McCree says, "Now that is a bad idea. Don't want your perfectly honed for battle body going to waste. Since you’re paying I’m planning on getting 3 quesadilla supremes and a soda."

 

He lets out a disgusted grunt. “Well, I’m not eating that garbage, so I guess I'll just have a fish taco," Hanzo hesitantly decides.

 

"You are a brave man. Braver than most," McCree comments, removing his hat and putting it over his chest in mock respect. Hanzo has no idea what the fuck that means so he chooses to approach the register. The oily, teenage cashier looks at him with a blank stare and says nothing.

 

"Greetings," Hanzo politely says with a twinge of irritation. The boy seems to hear something that peaks his interest, brightening up.

 

The young, Caucasian teenager deeply bows to him and loudly greets, “Ohayō!”

  
Hanzo feels shocked, followed by embarrassment that this person just wished him a good morning at 10 PM in butchered Japanese. A ghost of a smile dances on McCree’s face. Of course, he finds this funny.

 

"Konbanwa," Hanzo quietly replies, just wanting this conversation to be over. Continuing, he says, "I would like to order a fish taco and 3 quesadillas supremes please.”

 

"Can I onegai have a name for the order?" the teen asks seriously. The butchering of Japanese is cruel to Hanzo’s ears. This conversation is becoming akin to the feeling of getting one’s fingernails pulled out.

 

"It is just Ryu," he curtly responds, handing a cash over. He makes sure to always use aliases when he is out in public for his and the community’s safety. This time he just does not want this man knowing his real name.

 

Smile getting even deeper, the man bows again and quietly replies, "Arigato. I will get your order out right away, Ryu-sama."

 

After they sit down, McCree winces, "Let's hope he doesn't do that to every Asian person he comes across."

 

"Let us hope,” he sighs. “Many people are attracted to Japanese culture, I suppose. One would be surprised how quickly you get accustomed to it.”

 

McCree sips his water, smiling into the drink. "I get what you’re saying...Ryu-sama," he teases, mimicking the deep bow the cashier gave to Hanzo.

 

Frowning, Hanzo spits out, "You are, objectively, the worst person I have ever met. If we stop speaking right this second I would be content for the rest of my life."

 

Waving away his brash claim, McCree says, “It’s okay, I get it. Well…not the whole situation with that kid. I hope to never understand what was going on in his head. No, I mean using an alias.”

 

“Oh, I know,” Hanzo smirks, “Joel Morricone is a rather egregious choice for a cover name.”

 

Their number gets called and Hanzo walks over to the counter to retrieve their tray, leaving McCree shocked. The cowboy cannot have honestly thought that Hanzo had not already put two and two together. Before Overwatch, their fields of work intersected. While the archer’s line of work was a touch more nefarious and lethal, Joel Morricone was so relevant that even Hanzo was aware of his presence. It was not a difficult deduction. Though, the Venice incident was confidential information and the only reason Hanzo got ahold of it was through clan resources during one of his yearly break-ins. So, it makes sense why McCree has been able to keep a low profile for so many years.

 

Hanzo walks over to the counter to retrieve their tray. The same cashier bows his head again and says, "It's very oishii! I hope you like it."

 

"Thank you," Hanzo says slowly, successfully resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

 

When he turns to leave, the teen asks, "Hey, can you speak in Japanese for me? I want to hear if it in real life! I sometimes think I was supposed to be born in, like, Japan, you know?"

 

Emotionless, Hanzo curtly says, “No. I will not be your entertainment for the night. Try to at least attempt to maintain a level of professionalism in this cesspool you call your workplace.” He walks away, leaving the boy stammering. Hanzo is not angry, simply annoyed. McCree gives him an appreciative whistle, clearly enjoying all of this. Hanzo briskly walks back to their table, not sparing one more glance to the worker.

 

Unwrapping his meal, McCree comments, "You got balls, Hanzo. Good for you."

 

Unveiling his own food, Hanzo dismisses, “It was really nothing. I fear for the state of the world if that was considered brave."

 

"Has anyone told you that you are an ass?" McCree asks with a mouth full of food.

 

"Yes, you in fact. Many times."

 

"Have I told you tonight?"

 

"No, I do not believe so."

 

"Unfortunate. I still got time.” McCree smirks. “Well, I would thank you for dinner, but the cost to go to that Japanese restaurant was more than this. So, your favor isn't done."

 

"Is that so?" Hanzo snidely asks.

 

"Nah. I'd say you owe me...let's say a movie night on base?"

 

Hanzo hums. "Fine, so long as I pick the movie."

 

"I pick the genre and we got a deal."

 

"You are truly insufferable. Fine."

 

They spent the entire rest of the night talking at a rundown Taco Bell. The taxi service stopped running by the time the restaurant had closed and they both had to walk back, much to Hanzo's genuine chagrin. The journey was made simultaneously easier and more difficult by McCree's irreverent attitude. It was all made worth it to see the next morning the cowboy slam his head on the table after he fell asleep during a debrief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for this late chapter lololol


	9. Halloween

Jesse McCree

 

"I do not understand the purpose of this movie," Hanzo frowns.

 

"I can’t believe you. How can you not be into Halloween? This movie single handedly popularized the slasher genre!" McCree animatedly raises his voice. They are in the lounge watching Halloween in celebration of the actual holiday. Ever since their first hang out a month and a half ago, Hanzo has started humoring McCree with weekly movie nights.

 

"Yes, I think a movie that has a thinly veiled message of shaming teens for their sexuality has no purpose," Hanzo coolly replies with a side glare.

 

"Lately, I'm starting to think that you just like hearing yourself talk." McCree rolls his eyes and continues, "Are you going to share that blanket?"

 

"No,” Hanzo shakes his head and acts affronted that McCree would even ask.

 

"That’s bullshit! I came up with movie night. You didn’t even want to do it at first! Now you are the one that is hogging the blankets.”

 

Scowling, Hanzo pointedly pauses the movie and pivots his body toward McCree. "I cannot 'hog' something that is mine. You were aware of the temperature of the lounge but you stubbornly refuse to compensate for that. I will not give you any handouts, cowboy.” Hanzo turns his attention back to the screen unpauses the movie just in time to witness Michael Myers claiming another life in gory glory. Or as much gore was allowed 100 years ago.

 

The archer is a judgmental, snotty, condescending person. Despite that, Hanzo Shimada somehow retains a certain amount of charm. Lately it seems that they spend more time with each other than not. Somehow, their weird dynamic gave rise to them becoming casual friends. Everyone on base was quietly shocked when they saw the two prickliest people willingly spending time together.

 

"Are you going to the Halloween bash later?" McCree languidly asks, nudging Hanzo’s calf with his socked toe.

 

"Do I look like a Halloween or a ‘bash’ type of man, McCree?" Hanzo plainly replies. McCree keeps nudging Hanzo which causes the archer to threaten, "If you touch me with your toe one more time I am going to take your foot and shove it up your rectum.”

 

Hanzo pauses and slowly continues, "I will only deign go to the party if you attend with me."

 

McCree scoffs. "So, it's not enough that you have to suffer? You want me to too?"

 

The archer gives him a long side look and smirks. It was a sight to behold to see this icicle of a man thaw slightly. But people with pretty faces and ugly pasts are the most dangerous kind of people. Hanzo is pigheaded, proud, and filled to the brim with overconfidence however McCree lets him get away with most everything because of how fond he is of Hanzo’s assholey nature.

 

The cowboy concedes, “Fine, I’ll go. But you owe me for this!"

 

Hanzo stands up, somehow looking regal despite having a fuzzy blanket over his head. Completely serious, he responds, "I owe you nothing. My presence is payment enough."

 

Hanzo goes to the adjacent kitchen, presumably to grab a snack that McCree picked up earlier today. He’s planning on revisiting in a week to clean the stores out of their discounted candy. The temptation to invite Hanzo is strong, but Jesse knows that the ex-heir archer doesn’t have enough mental fortitude to go grocery shopping at a superstore and that he himself doesn’t have enough mental fortitude to listen to Shimada complain for a straight hour. Hanzo returns with the gross package of health food that Jesse bought for him.

 

The climax of the movie is underway. Laurie Strode and the evil serial killer Michael Myers meet for the first time. During the intense closet scene, Hanzo pipes up and complains, “Cowboy, this are repulsive. Why did you buy this for me?”

 

Jesse snaps, "Can you be quiet and watch the movie, Hanzo? I swear you can't sit still or shut up for more than 5 minutes.”

 

"I grow restless," Hanzo replies with a hint of amusement in his tone.

 

"Can you grow restless quietly? What's a man gotta do to get some peace and quiet?”

 

After the movie ends, McCree heads to his room to get his costume which he wore forever ago. Gabe used to always put on yearly Blackwatch Halloween parties to, quote, ‘raise morale.’ Jesse never had the heart to get rid of his Hellsing Costume that Gabe bought him. After he gets dressed and leaves his quarters, he is immediately greeted by Hanzo who he presumably thought was going to change into a costume but instead just changed his sweatshirt from a blue one to a red one. Somehow, Hanzo Shimada is a strange combination of uptight and irreverent.

 

On the way to the party, which is located on the other side of Watchpoint, Hanzo texts on his phone, something that Jesse has rarely seen him do. He leans over the archer’s shoulder and lowly whistles.

 

"You? Texting? Well damn, what's next, pigs flying?"

 

Hanzo puts his palm on Jesse's face and pushes him away, without so much as looking away from his phone. "We can arrange for pigs to fly, McCree. I'm sure Dr. Ziegler will let you borrow her suit."

 

"I am hurt, offended, and absolutely baffled that you would suggest a similarity between a pig and I." McCree cuts Hanzo off before the archer could retort. "And _don't_ say that it is more insulting to the pig than to me. That's a low hanging fruit, even for you."

 

Hanzo shakes his head with a small smile and puts away his phone. After a 3-minute walk, they've arrived at the conference room. Noises of festivities drift through the door. Interacting with other Overwatch members tended him to feel all sorts of ways, none good.

 

"Not feeling too into the idea of this, Han,” he admits, hand hovering over the door handle.

 

“What else would you be doing?” Hanzo snorts. “Going back to your room to smoke marijuana?" The archer impatiently opens the door himself, not waiting for McCree to do it.

 

Immediately, Tracer’s bubbly voice greets, “Hey guys, didn't think that you'd make it!" Her and Winston saunter over. Lena is dressed in a bumblebee costume that is unbelievably poofy. Winston has a hat on which Jesse guesses is the ape’s idea of a costume.

 

"It was great that you could make it, McCree!” Winston greets jovially. The ape holds out his hand, expecting a handshake from McCree to which the cowboy reluctantly takes.

 

Tracer pipes up, “I get what you’re supposed to be Jesse but what’s your costume Hanzo?”

 

Hanzo is dressed in his traditional kyudo-gi but instead of the usual color scheme, it’s white and red. The outfit lacks his usual I’m-totally-not-an-alcoholic-I-drink-for-fun sake gourd, his weird fanny pack, and his bow and arrow. Instead of Hanzo’s signature bright, yellow hair scarf, he adorns a silvery scarf of the same type. Jesse doesn’t know quite what Hanzo is supposed to be but he knows better than to ask.

 

Hanzo snorts dryly. “Obviously I am dressed up like a demon.”

 

_Obviously._

 

Hanzo directs attention to the figure on his sleeve. “This is a traditional depiction of an Oni.”

 

Tracer and Winston look impressed but Jesse questions, “Han, this is cool but why do you have this? I know damn well you didn’t buy it for Halloween.”

 

“It was a gift from a brief but intimate employer of mine a few years back. He enjoyed calling me a demon, sent to reap the souls of the damned. Gifted this to me as a parting memento.” A fond and fleeting smile appeared on Hanzo’s face. “It will go without saying that this particular employer had a flair for the dramatic.”

 

Jesse doesn’t think that Hanzo is the type to work for anyone. The archer must have been in love with him, or at least fond enough to take orders. Interesting. Jesse doesn’t believe that his companion is completely devoid of emotions, but Hanzo is so emotionally repressed that it’s hard to imagine him in love. In fact, Hanzo is so repressed that he makes Jesse and his own brother seem well adjusted.

 

“Interesting!” Winston exclaims. “Well, we’ll leave you two to it.” Winston starts to walk away but he stops last second and asks, “McCree, do you have any new leads on Talon?”

 

 

Jesse briskly shakes his head. "Sorry, no. You'll be the first to hear about it. Now let’s not talk work, Winst. Not on Halloween!" Hanzo tosses him a quick frown.

 

Winston looks disappointed. "I hope you'll be able to turn up something in the next week. Well, Lena, let's go continue mingling." They leave Hanzo and him alone, standing in a room full of people. Most of the familiar field agents are here, the faces of Overwatch back in the day, but most people here are administrative workers or non-field operatives.

 

"I cannot claim that I am eager to seek my brother out in this crowd," Hanzo gravely says with an intense look of displeasure on his face. "Let us just sit." A comfortable booth in the corner awaits them but not before Jesse grabs himself a soda and Hanzo a water. Jesse jokingly hands his friend the soda, to which Hanzo responds with an eyeroll and snatches the water out of his opposite hand.

 

As soon as Jesse seats himself, Hanzo immediately asks, "You lied to the ape earlier. Why? And do not play coy and insult my intelligence by feigning ignorance."

 

"Didn't know that you cared!" Jesse says sweetly, attempting to rouse Hanzo into changing the subject. Judging from the look Hanzo gives him, he's not getting off that easily. With a sigh, Jesse lowers his voice and leans toward Hanzo. "I have an inside informant who I met last year durinf Christmas. We've been real good friends and she has some information for me and _only_ me."

 

Hanzo grunts and nods his head. He takes a sip of a water and casually says, "You are a double agent now?"

 

"What no-"

 

"If you were I would not care," Hanzo says with a steady voice. "As long as your dealings do not affect Genji, I have no issue."

 

"Nono, Hanzo you've got it wrong you see the thing is...wait really?" McCree incredulously asks. Mr. I’m-super-intense-about-everything Shimada is so casual at the thought of McCree as a double agent.

 

"My loyalty is stronger for you than to Overwatch. And stronger for my brother than you. So long as what you are doing does not affect Genji, I do not care much. I will not help you nor will I inform Winston,” Hanzo languidly informs while taking another sip of his drink. However backhanded, this seems to be an honest to god confession of loyalty from Hanzo. Well pigs really are flying today. Something doesn’t quite add up though.

 

"Isn't loyalty to your brother loyalty to Overwatch?" Jesse frowns.

 

"No. My brother also has an allegiance stronger for me than Overwatch. I suspect that this organization reminds him too much of the clan and is what stops him from fully supporting it. He does not advocate for its existence and is only here to chase after the glories of saving the world." Hanzo flashes a lazy smile. "In any case, primarily the reason I do not care if you were to betray Overwatch is because I have plausible deniability. Being complicit is not as bad as directly having a hand in the crime."

 

"Some say complicity is worse than committing the crime."

 

"And I am sure those people did not have a crime lord as their father. I wield complicity as masterfully as my bow." Hanzo warns darkly, "You may ask Genji how complicit I am."

 

McCree snorts and rolls his eyes. "I don't think I want do that. Anyways, this conversation was pointless because I am _not_ betraying Overwatch. I'm just going meet her in a week in Casablanca."

 

"How romantic," Hanzo quips.

 

"Not romantic. In fact, _opposite_ of romantic. I'm missing a hookup with a pretty thing I met a few months ago in Gibraltar for this lead. So, this better be worth it.”

 

Hanzo's face briefly twisted in an expression of disgust. Sour demeanor, the archer passive aggressively says, "I will never understand your fascination with nonintimate sex."

 

Jesse won't lie, he does have hookups often. Not every week often but still pretty regularly. He views sex as getting your back rubbed. You don't need to know your masseuse's life story nor do they need to know yours. It’s two people doing a favor and satisfying a need that the other has. Of course, it goes without saying that it still operates on incredibly explicit consent and boundaries, and one of those boundaries is nothing emotional. Jesse thinks that emotional sex does exist but he hasn’t been looking for something like that in a while.

Jesse defensively snaps, "Shimada, don't judge me on my choices. Especially my choices on who to have sex with.”

 

Sighing, Hanzo has the decency to look ashamed, albeit not completely convinced. "Forgive me, that was unworthy. I just think that it is safer to have sex with those you know. Frolicking with strangers was more like Genji than I. Unlike my brother, I was required to hold myself up to higher standards in all ways.

 

Jesse pauses, choosing his next words carefully. He slowly asks, "Did the clan not approve of you being gay?" This is approaching into dangerous territory. After a moment of tense silence with only the sounds of the party between them, Jesse knows he had made a mistake and quickly apologizes, "Sorry, didn't mean to make things weird."

 

Hanzo snaps his head toward Jesse, surprised and with storms in his eyes. He shakes his head. "No. I was just trying to formulate a response."

 

After another moment of silence, Hanzo slowly admits, "They were not overtly homophobic, no. They did, however, view my preferences as irrelevant, a dalliance that was not expected to interfere with my status nor my future to produce a child. It was one of the only acts of rebellion I undertook during my time with the clan."

 

"Your sexuality isn't a rebellion, Hanzo…" Jesse softly comforts, leaning a fraction closer to Hanzo.

 

Hanzo responds with a light scoff and shakes his head, continuing, "My father was disappointed but only because I didn’t follow in his footsteps. He wanted me to be the man he was. Treating women and his underlings like trash, taking all that he wanted without a mere second thought, and killing without remorse. In his eyes, I was a failure of a man and the scion of the Shimada clan. I was a pale imitation of perfection.

 

"Perfection is overrated,” McCree comments.

 

"Perfection is what all humans work toward," Hanzo curtly replies, frowning.

 

Sighing and electing to ignore that train of discussion of Hanzo’s misguided principals, McCree instead asks, “What about your mother? Where does she fit in your messed up of a story?”

 

“I do not wish to discuss that. Not with anyone, including you,” Hanzo aggressively snaps. After a moment passes, Hanzo looks a little guilty but doesn't offer anything else about his mother. Silence passes between them, both in extreme contemplation.

 

That conversation took a turn of the darker. He always figured that the Shimada clan was always a bit...fucked. With what happened to Genji he figured the family was nonconventional to say the least. But with what little Hanzo told him, Jesse can tell that the reality is so much uglier than he’d imagined. Genji has never told him this stuff, certainly not about what Hanzo went through. Jesse isn't certain if Genji even knows about this stuff.

 

Seems like a pretty unfortunate situation. It's a wonder why the brothers don't change their last names. What about Hanzo Smith? Nah. Genji Yamamoto? Nope. Hanzo Tanaka? Nah. Their first names sound weird without Shimada following it.

 

"My apologies if I over stepped my boundaries,” Hanzo replies gravely, looking at anywhere besides McCree. "I do not understand why I put up with you. What has my life come to that I am telling my life story to a scruffy cowboy at a Halloween party?"

 

"Doesn't seem like your life before was all that better," Jesse comments easily.

 

A light laugh. "Touché."

 

The rest of the night is filled with casual conversation and guest appearances by other Overwatch members. Doctor Ziegler stopped by in her witch costume to inform them of new recruits slated to join within the next month and two. Things between Angela and the two men were still tense but the information was enough to ignore the awkwardness. Apparently, the criminals known as Roadhog and Junkrat are set to join in the upcoming days why they are joining is still a mystery. Winston apparently thinks that criminals inside a criminal organization is not a big deal. Jesse knows that he promised not to betray Overwatch when talking to Hanzo but the amount of money that Hog and Rat have on their heads might be too good to pass up.

 

Fareeha is set to officially join and will leave her job at Helix to assist. Zenyatta, Bastion, and Torb's daughter are all expected to arrive at the end of the month. And rumored to be recruited are Zarya, Lynx, the hacker Omnic, and a mysterious figure that goes by Soldier 76.

 

After Angela leaves, Jesse mutters under his breath, "Can't say I am too happy for the incoming traffic that'll be coming this way."

 

"I feel the same way," Hanzo responds.

 

"You two have gotten to be fast friends, huh?" A voice asks. Low and behold, Overwatch's resident ninja is now sitting next to Hanzo when, a moment ago, that seat was unoccupied.

 

"Jesus, Genji! Give a man a little warning?"

 

Hanzo frowns. "McCree, are you claiming that you could not hear him? I could sense him from a mile away. Brother, your stealth skills are sloppy, just like when we were children."

 

With a tight voice, Genji curtly replies, "And it seems that you are still living in the past."

 

McCree winces and takes a sip of his soda. He can sense an incoming fight and prepares to remove himself from the situation.

 

Hanzo deeply frowns and changes the subject. "Your Omnic is coming at the end of the month correct?"

 

"...yes. But he is not _m_ y Omnic, so do not refer to him as so."

 

Strife paints Hanzo's face. And this is getting supremely awkward for Jesse. When they get like this they both become extremely unpleasant. Deciding to take pity on his friend, Jesse interrupts their escalating conversation. "Hey, Han, do you want come back to my place and watch the Halloween sequel?"

 

Hanzo looks like he doesn't want to do that but since it is his only way out the archer jerkily nods and stands up to leave. Genji, who has his face mask off frowns, but still doesn't object when they walk away. Hanzo doesn't even bother to say goodbye.

 

_Yikes._

 

They walk back and mid-way to Hanzo's room, the archer asks, "Why do you seem to be better friends with me, after a little more than a mere month, than with Genji who has been your teammate for years?"

 

McCree rubs the back of his neck abashedly. "Well teammate doesn't always necessarily equate friends. When I met him he was so, _so_ angry and wasn't in a place to be a good friend or much of anything to anyone. I would do anything for Genji but we didn't braid each other's hair during Blackwatch or exchange friendship bracelets."

 

"But you still decided to befriend me, despite your relation with my brother."

 

"Yeah well…I don't know Hanzo. Don't make everything into a bigger deal than it actually is. You got to learn how to go with the flow."

 

“This is me going with the flow,” Hanzo frowns as he enters the threshold into McCree’s room.

 

McCree mutters, “Lord have mercy on your therapist’s soul.”

 

\--

 

The next day, at around noon and only a couple of hours after McCree kicked out a very hungover, very cotton mouthed Hanzo, a knock on his door interrupts his sketching. Jesse could recognize the fists that rapped on that door anyday.

 

"Genj!" He greets after he opens the door. "How are you?"

 

"Yo!" Genji bows his head in greeting. The cyborg takes off his face mask, and upon crossing into McCree's room, his face scrunches up and puts it back on. "Damn McCree, your room stinks. What are you trying to do? Smoke the world's supply of weed?"

 

Rolling his eyes fondly, he replies, "That was your brother, not me. Why don't you knock down his door and berate him for his extralegal activities?"

 

Genji doesn't reply to that and McCree makes a mental note of that.

 

"Do you wanna come in, sit down?" he offers. Genji waves him away, opting to stand. They exist in still silence for a bit until Genji breaks it.

 

"You and my brother have gotten close," the ninja observes noncommittedly.

 

McCree immediately shuts it down. "Nuh-uh. I'm not talking about him. Your brother is more prickily than a cactus and, somehow, I’ve gotten him to like me in the past month. It’s like if I had a feral cat and domesticated it and you are asking me to give it up for adoption the second it starts purring. And the cat can kill me in 5 different, varying cruel ways."

 

"What makes you think I wanted to gossip about my brother?" Genji meekly replies.

 

"I can tell you guys have been going through a rough patch lately. I am not inserting myself in the middle of your drama."

 

"I feel like he's hiding things from me," Genji softly admits, trying to open up the conversation.

 

"Well, if you are going to talk about him then I'm going to put in my headphones,” McCree warningly starts inching the earbud toward his ear.

 

"Okay, okay," Genji acquiesces with a smile in his voice. The ninja gravitates over to the window sill and gently picks up the drawn portrait of Reyes. Jesse has no clue how he can be made out of metal, but still do things with such a cautious nature. He suppresses the urge to storm over to him and snatch it out of his hands. Genji knew Reyes though and Jesse has no monopoly on grief.

Genji softly puts the picture down with almost a hint of reverence and says neutrally, "It seems that, despite your initial attitude, you have become closer friends with my brother than we have in years of knowing each other. How unfortunate our relationship was all those years ago."

 

"Unfortunate situation, Genji. I didn't expect us to be friends, you were hurting, real bad," firmly reassures. "We were a team, sure we didn't trade secrets or were best friends, but I still would do anything for you."

 

"You, Reyes, and O'Deorain were a team," Genji darkly replies. "Reyes and O'Deorain used me. I didn't like any of you because what you represented to me was another prison that I had to endure."

 

Jesse stands up, enraged and feeling defensive at the accusation. “Oh, so apparently I was at fault too? I was a 20something, Genji! I didn't do anything to you! I was conscripted to be in Blackwatch too, get over yourself!"

 

"You could have gone at anytime, McCree,” Genji lowly says, voice sounding dark. Sometimes the ninja reminded him more of an assassin this brother. Genji coldly continues, “You were always Reyes's and Overwatch's favorite! Why do you wonder that they make you primary on cases, even after all these years? But me? I was a tool to them! Just like in the clan I was expected to be a weapon. Reyes didn't see me as a person, you all saw me as an angry ball of wires that you had to watch out for!"

 

McCree scoffed, "But wasn't that what you were? Just because you were removed from the clan didn't mean that you weren't dangerous! You didn't care about civilian lives, you were a spoiled, rich assassin who didn't care who we had to walk over to complete the mission. You're more like Gabe and Moira than you give yourself credit for," he hisses.

 

"What is that supposed to mean?" Genji asks tersely.

 

Lowly, McCree informs him, "Despite all of your claims about the Shimada clan, I know that you were Blackwatch's hitman. You ended up becoming what, no _who_ You despised the most."

 

Instead of getting angry, Genji deeply sighs. All tension from his body dissipates as he sits on the bed. "I-I’m sorry. This is not how I wished this conversation would turn out. Conflict management is still a new skill for me." Genji takes off his facemask and rests his elbows on his knees. With chilling eye contact, he asks, "How long have you known?"

 

Anger leaves his muscles and is replaced by exhaustion.

 

"I knew back then," Jesse simply says.

 

Genji starts bouncing his leg and breaks eye contact. Giving a mirthless laugh, he says, "You're right. I became my brother. For the same reason that Hanzo cut me down I cut down several more. I did it for self-preservation. All of those people deserved it, but it brings me no joy to know how many people have died by my hands. It seems it was harder to resist my upbringing than I anticipated. I take responsibility for my actions, McCree. Just like my brother had a choice, I had a choice. We both have no excuses for what we have done. There is nothing to do besides right the wrongs of the past and become better people. However, it seems my brother is still not ready for time to flow forward. Hanzo and I are fighting, almost every time we see each other. When he first came here, we got along like when we were boys but now we get along as well as oil and water.”

 

McCree says nothing. Not sure what he feels about Genji or this whole ordeal. Realizing Jesse won’t resopond, with a deep, resounding sigh, Genji says, "Perhaps it is still not too late for us to be friends?"

 

"I…hope it isn't."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It takes me so long to get these out because I'm super critical of my work and I edit each chapter 3 times. lololol. I want to post but I am SO hard on my writing and the quality of this. gg


	10. Leaving in the Middle of the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. Originally chapter 10 and 11 were in one but they didn't flow together so instead, I am putting out two short chapters. Also, I think this should be midway in the fanfiction

Jesse McCree

 

Jesse always fancies him a top-tier tier shot. Never say it to their faces, but he thinks he's got better aim than Ana and Morrison, rest their souls. McCree is handy with a sniper rifle and served as Blackwatch's sniper from time to time. Yeah, that's right, his aim was so good that he was a sniper of an elite covert organization.

 

But Hanzo Shimada, he won’t admit, gives him a run for a money. McCree doesn't fancy himself a competitive person but seeing Hanzo's higher simulation score makes him a touch jealous.

 

"Damn, Han, save some for the rest of us!" he jokes.

 

Normally that would have earned McCree a side smile and a tongue in cheek response from Hanzo, today it earned him a scoff. Something was off about him the past couple of days. It's no skin off of his back though. He's used to Hanzo's very unclothed shoulder being cold. He’ll thaw when he wants to.

 

“Jesse I…” Hanzo starts. The use of his first name takes him by surprise. Hanzo continues, “I think I may have done something to jeopardize my relationship with Genji.”

 

This is certainly strange and out of character. Hanzo being emotional is the preceding step before the apocalypse. McCree uncomfortably laughs, “He loves you a lot, Han. I don’t know what you could do piss him off. I mean, he forgave you for killing him for Christ sake.”

 

“Don’t make light of this,” Hanzo spits out and begins to angrily dissemble his bow, frowning so much that it looks like he might etch a frown line on his flawless skin. Which would be tragic, seeing as McCree is quite fond of Hanzo’s face. Not that he would ever make a pass at Hanzo but you can admire the beauty of an artwork without wanting to stick your dick in it though.

 

"You...okay?" McCree hesitantly asks.

 

Hanzo's frown is now directed him. "You dishonor me with that question."

 

An eyeroll. "Damn sorry. Maybe you need a break from training. Or get your dick sucked. Or do yoga. Or smoke weed. Or-"

 

A breathy, humorless laugh resonates from Hanzo, interrupting McCree’s next raunchy sentence. Hanzo bitterly spits out, "Or become fat and lazy and irreverent like you?"

 

“Okay, fuck you too buddy. I think we're done here so find someone else to be your emotional punching bag you repressed douchebag. I was going ask you to watch a movie tonight on account of me shipping off for a covert op tomorrow. But upon reconsideration, I decided that you can go fuck yourself. Instead of dealing with your ass, maybe I'll schedule a dick appointment, maybe I'll drink that sake I was going to surprise you with, or maybe, just maybe, I'll find a friend who doesn't change moods faster than an Olympic track star!"

 

He storms off, fuming, slamming the door behind him. They'll make up eventually, but there is nothing to be gained from them both being pissy. They don’t get into arguments often but even when they do, they usually make up by the end of the day, both begrudgingly accepting their fault in the situation. Though this time around it’ll be a little different seeing as Jesse is leaving tomorrow for a week. Of course, he has no doubt that he will come back to base with Hanzo lecturing him about the dangers of sugar and how McCree should consider pescatarianism like nothing ever was wrong.

 

In the meantime, maybe he'll mingle with some of the new recruits. Pharah flies in tomorrow, arriving an hour after McCree leaves for his flight, which is unfortunate. They have texted back and forth consistently for the past three weeks. He can tell that she is apprehensive about joining but who isn’t? It’s been hard on her since Ana up and left but at least Fareeha had a mom for that long. Even if she mysteriously vanished.

 

He passes by the lounge the younger recruits hang out in and he almost instantly regrets it. Junkrat and D.Va are arguing while playing a video game, Lucio is showing music to Roadhog, and Brigitte is just doing her best banshee impression. God bless them all but…jesus he's too old for this. Quietly turning to leave, McCree is noticed by Brigitte who runs over to him with a smile.

 

"Hey, Jesse! What's up? I just arrived here today and I’m excited to be a part of the team! Papa isn't here right now so I was going to surprise him. In the meantime, you should join us," Brigitte beams. He’s only met her a couple of times but she always had this bubbly, saccharine personality that made it hard to say no to her. While he and Torb almost ever got alone, McCree couldn’t bring himself to hold it against his daughter who is very clearly cut from a different cloth. Giving her a tepid nod, McCree drifts over to the adjoining kitchen which overlooks the TV, making a pot of coffee and spikes it with whiskey.

 

Just because he said yes doesn’t mean he isn’t going to be drunk for the next few hours.

 

"Mind if I have some?" Roadhog growls, saddling up next to McCree in the kitchen. Jesse slowly pours him a cup of coffee and attempts to give it to Roadhog. The big slab of meat grunts with displeasure. Slowly pulling out his flask, McCree silently spikes it. The Australian gives a satisfied grunt in return. It seems that this guy only communicates in grunts.

 

“Can I ask you something….?”

 

“Mako.”

 

“Okay, can I ask you something, Mako?” He gives an affirmatory grunt in response. Jesse continues, “Why are you hanging out with the noisiest bunch on base. The noisy crowd doesn't seem to be your thing."

 

Roadhog points to his ears which both have tiny devices in them and says, "Noise canceling. Smart investment.”

 

McCree hangs out with the group for an hour and a half more. He learns that Brigitte and Hana have crushes on each other despite only meeting today, Junkrat has a personality that doesn’t quite agree with McCree, and that Lúcio really, really doesn’t like Vishkar. All useless information, really, but McCree unexpectedly enjoyed most of their company.

 

It reminds him of Overwatch of the past. Angela, Genji, and him staying up late to play board games. They used to smuggle junk food and, when everyone got older, alcohol to Fareeha. When Winston came to Overwatch, just a little thing at the time, they fostered his love of peanut butter and bananas with an almost endless supply. In the early days, Gabe and Jack weren’t arguing, there was no Venice incident, and Moira hadn’t brought a dark cloud over the organization. They were the happiest times of his life. While he can’t ever have that again, it’s nice to see that Overwatch can be what it was to Jesse to a whole new generation of heroes.

 

Now all that’s left for him is covert meetings in Casablanca in the middle of the night. If she’s being honest, the information that she has could take down Talon for good.

 

He stays up all night, busy with preparation. Keeping in mind Winston’s personality, he makes sure to leave a note lest the ape freaks out on Jesse. It’s almost 4 AM so Jesse starts heading over to his truck. Drives to the airport were always such a bore. Hanzo was supposed to see him off but, of course, the prick decided now was a good time for the whole ice king bullshit.

 

But if Jesse is honest he’s going to miss Hanzo for this next week. Without noticing, the archer has become a staple of life on base for Jesse. Almost every single mission they are stationed on, they are together. Their skills complement each other perfectly yes but less pragmatic than that, it was nice having a friend on the team. It’s been a while since he has genuinely wanted to spend this much time with another person. Not that he would ever tell Hanzo that he doesn’t need his head to inflate and make him look like a bobblehead.

 

McCree arrives in the garage and finds his car parked where he left it a week ago after him and Hanzo picked up some weed and alcohol. The archer was an unwilling participant, claiming that it was unworthy for the heir to a wealthy clan to stoop to picking up drugs. It’s a mystery how McCree hasn’t ripped Hanzo’s head off by now. On the contrary, he likes Hanzo’s special brand of assholery.

 

Hopping into the muggy car, Jesse promptly starts the car engine. As the lights illuminate the front seat, a body leaning on the side of the window nearly causes him to give an undignified yelp. The person has a hood over their head and looks to be alive. Slowly, he inches his hand to reveal the person’s face but their hand darts out to intercept Jesse’s hand.  


Without looking away from the window, the stranger simply says, “It’s me, McCree.”

 

Disgruntled, Jesse leans back in his seat in a huff and frowns. “Hanzo, what the fuck are you doing here?”

 

“I am leaving Overwatch,” Hanzo coldly informs, “and I wished to accompany you on one last mission.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It takes so long to get these chapters done. I am so much of a perfectionist and I just feel really bad about my content that I create. That's not to say that I'm looking for reassurance, it's just an explanation for why it takes so long. Whenever I read other people's works I feel bad about what I write because their's is so good in comparison. I'm going to try and put out chapters though and start having more confidence though!!

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, boy am I nervous to start a fic! I don't know an upload schedule so UH whenever it comes out it comes out. Thanks for reading!


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